


To The Moon And Back – A Romanogers Fanfic

by along4theride, ItsAFandomThingAO3



Category: MCU, Marvel
Genre: Angst, Anthony Mackie - Freeform, CACW, CACW spoilers, Captain America: Civil War, Cobie Smulders - Freeform, Elizabeth Olsen - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Jeremy Renner - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, Paul Rudd - Freeform, Post CACW, Samuel L. Jackson - Freeform, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, chris evans - Freeform, mcu - Freeform, scarlett johansson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 78,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/along4theride/pseuds/along4theride, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAFandomThingAO3/pseuds/ItsAFandomThingAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Cap has escaped from the clutches of their jail cells. Steve & Natasha have come to good terms after what happened at the airport. With the team still divided - Steve and Natasha, and the remaining Avengers are on the run, hopeful that they'll escape Ross and witness a peaceful ending. </p><p>Actively Featured Characters (by order of story importance):<br/>-Natasha Romanoff ("Black Widow")<br/>-Steve Rogers ("Captain America")<br/>-Wanda Maximoff ("Scarlet Witch")<br/>-Ross + his men <br/>-Maria Hill <br/>-Clint Barton ("Hawkeye")<br/>-Bucky Barnes ("The Winter Soldier")<br/>-Sam Wilson ("Falcon")<br/>-Nick Fury<br/>-Scott Lang ("Ant-Man")</p><p>Contains:<br/>-Post-Civil War & Pre-Infinity War activity<br/>-Romanogers (Can range from fluff to angst, but never smut - does not start off romantic)<br/>-All other platonic relationships</p><p>DISCLAIMER:<br/>I do NOT own these characters (rights go to MARVEL)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally posted this story on Wattpad (same title, acc: @ _ItsAFandomThing_)  
> I've posted chapters 1-7 out of 24 total on there, so if you're interested in what happens next and don't want to wait until next Friday's update, feel free to look over there :)  
> Thanks! Happy reading!

_Tony,_

_I'm glad you're back at the compound; I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself..._

     "About damn time." Sam crossed his arms; revealing that same grin he's always worn so well.

     Steve smirked at him from the outside of Sam's cell bars. "Well I mean, what can I say? I am a –"

     "–slow old man?" a voice finished from the darkness.

     "You're kidding..." Sam tilted his head at Steve, and then looked beyond him to see Natasha Romanoff step into the faint light; raising her eyebrows.

     "I was going to say an elder, but yours works too." Steve cocked his brow at Natasha.

     "What'd you do to get her into coming with you to bust us out?" Sam placed his hands on his hips and eyed Steve with amusement, but then his face darkened. "You _are_ here to bust us out, right?"

     "Nah, we're just visiting." Natasha winked.

     Sam rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha – hilarious – do you mind gettin' to it?" he patted the bars to his cell and pursed his lips. "Just out of curiosity, how'd the two of you get in here? You know this entire place is under twenty-four hour surveillance–"

     "We're aware." Natasha interrupted, "I may have 'borrowed' some Tony-tech on the way here..."

     After her confrontation with Stark, Natasha disappeared for a while to regather her self-control and take her sweet time to sort things out. After everything that happened with the accords and the fight at the airport, she figured it was only necessary that she remove herself from the situation until further notice. During that time, she had thought about Steve and Bucky and how she had helped them escape to wherever. _I did the right thing,_ she told herself – and she did, or at least, she believed that she did; which was all she could ask of herself.

     She worried about the two of them; more so Steve than Bucky. She knew Team Cap had been put in jail for their actions because Tony had told her so, along with the fact that she too would be put in jail for helping the two of them escape. She knew where the facility the team was imprisoned in was located. It took some time, but she came to the realization that she was no longer on Tony's side of things – she was practically on Steve's instead. So, she decided that she would offer her help to Steve in order to bust the rest of the team out of jail – that is, if he accepted her offer... he did.

     How she actually found him after coming to her conclusion is really quite an interesting story, but can be later explained. He agreed to let her help him and Bucky – and it's safe to say he's more than thrilled that he did.

     After her encounter with Steve and the acceptance of her plead to help, she stopped by Stark Industry's and "borrowed" a few lovely items from Tony's desk-drawer in his office along with some handy SHIELD tools as well.

     And now, here they are.

     "How bout' that?" a voice asked from behind them. The three of them turned their heads. Clint had his body leaned against the bars and a look of interest spread across his face.

     Natasha's heart flipped, seeing one of her dearest friends again, but covered it up with her usual smirk. "Yeah, how bout' it?" She rubbed her hands together and paced over to his cell. She placed her arms flat on top of one of the bars and lowered her head on top of them, "We're still friends, right?"

     Clint eyed her, and then he turned away dramatically with his hands in his pockets. "I don't know, Nat..." his voice drifted playfully, "You hit me pretty hard..."

     Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'd do it again." She patted her hands up and down against the top of the bar her arms were rested on.

     "I know. Thing is – you'll have to get me out of here first." Clint teased.

     "Don't worry; I expect to." And with that, she straightened up, turned on her heal, and walked back over to Steve and Sam.

     Steve looked at her, "Alright, Romanoff – you got a plan?"

     Natasha half-smiled and brushed past him. "Don't I always?"

_We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere – even in the army. My faith is in – people – I guess; individuals. And I'm happy to say that for the most part, they haven't let me down... which is why I can't let them down either._

     Natasha pulled the ML-20 from her old rifle green duffle-bag and held it tightly in her hands before loading it.

     "This is the ML-20. SHIELD created it last year after our _delightful_ encounter with Ultron – for situations like this. You pull the trigger and instead of shooting a steel bullet, it creates a matter-altering mist that turns any substance it touches into a vapor." Natasha explained.

     "Is _that_ how you plan to get us out of here?" Sam questioned.

     "It is." Natasha breathed, she pointed the gun at him, "Get back."

     Sam didn't hesitate. He ran and pressed himself against the side of the wall and held his breath, Natasha shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't have to hold your breath."

     Sam kept his eyes closed and his face squished tight together, "You do you, and I'll do me." He spat.

     Natasha rolled her eyes and exhaled, then she pulled the trigger and a puff of mist shot out from the barrel.

     The mist reached the cell bars and within a few moments, there was a cloud of gas floating upwards to reveal a giant, gaping hole in the bars large enough that Sam could crawl through.

_Locks can be replaced, but–_

     "Damn," Sam observed while nodding his head, "not bad."

_–Maybe they shouldn't._

     " _'Not bad'_ " Natasha mocked, "Come on." She reached through the hole and yanked Sam's arm; forcing him out of the confined cell.

     "Okay," Steve stood in the center of the ring of cells and looked out to everybody, "Who's next?"

     "Clint." Natasha looked to her friend sitting patiently on his bed and twiddling his thumbs. She beat the barrel of the gun softly against the palm of her hand as she tauntingly walked towards him. "Alright Clint – your turn." She clicked her tongue and gestured to the back of the wall.

     "Yes ma'am," Clint climbed on top of his cell mattress and bounced to the wall. Once again, Natasha pulled the trigger.

     Clint examined the hole in the wall before remarking, "How quaint." Then he climbed out the gap and followed Natasha too the center of the ring.

     "My turn now?" The four of them turned to see Scott with his face pressed against the bars.

     Natasha tilted her head and nodded, "Your turn now."

     Scott did a little happy dance and marched over to the side of the wall, waiting anxiously for Natasha to pull the trigger and bail him out. As she held out her arm and pointed the gun to the bars, Steve stopped her.

     "Wait," he scanned the ring and the cells around him; something, or rather, someone was missing. "Where's Wanda?"

     Natasha looked over her shoulder and lowered the gun, causing Scott to roll his eyes and sink to the ground. _Of course._

     "Um, that's a good question," Natasha turned to look at Sam, "Sam?"

     "I never saw them bring her in–"

     "I watched them take her," Clint interrupted, "I didn't exactly see where. But she was on the same jet the rest of us were."

     "That makes no sense – why would they put all of you together in the same ring but exclude her? There are at least three more cells in this ring with nobody in them." Natasha pondered.

     "Hey – how about we make that _four_ cells and get _me_ outta here?" Scott proposed with his face yet again pressed against the bars of his cell.

     Steve exhaled and turned to Natasha, "Natasha – get him out."

     Natasha nodded and turned to face Scott. She elongated her arm out and pointed it directly at him, "I'd move out of the way if I were you." She suggested; narrowing her eyes for emphasis.

     Scott quickly dashed to the side of the wall and Natasha sighed before loading the gun and pulling the trigger. After the gas disappeared and there was a hole in the bars, Scott leaped out. "Thank you." He looked at Natasha.

     "Mmhm." Natasha tossed the gun into her bag and shoved her hands into her pockets. "So, what's your plan?"

     "I thought you said you always had a plan." Steve mocked.

      Natasha smirked, "It was more of a question than a statement. Speaking of questions – answer mine: what are we gonna do?"

     Steve opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. He took a few moments to think about it – because in all honesty, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure where Ross' men took her, he wasn't sure whether or not they split her from the rest of the team because she belonged in a more – restricting – cell... heck, he wasn't even sure if he and Natasha had slipped into the ring unnoticed. He hoped to God that whatever had happened, wherever Ross' men had put her, that Wanda was alright. Since her coming to live in America and joining the Avengers, Steve had always felt like Wanda was his responsibility. He felt the burden of watching after her and protecting her like family rested on his shoulders – because as far as he was concerned; it was. Steve understood Wanda. The both of them never really had much family growing up; the both of them had volunteered to be experimented on for reasons larger than them. If it were anyone's responsibility to care for Wanda, it was definitely _his_.

     "Well," Scott began, "There's five of us right now, so we could split up and search the facility – three go one way, the remaining two go the other."

     "I'd rather we not split up like that. I don't want to risk anybody getting caught and thrown back in a cell a second time." Steve explained.

     "Okay, well, it's not entirely a bad idea. Bucky's waiting at the top with the jet ready – why don't the three of them go to him and you and I can look for Wanda?" Natasha suggested.

     "Natasha," Steve looked to the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "What if they get caught on the way up there and imprisoned again? What if we get caught down here?"

     "Then..." Natasha hesitated, but then she sighed, "We stay behind."

     Everyone's head popped up from looking down at the floor and stared at Natasha.

     "Pardon?" Sam crossed his arms.

     Natasha looked around. Shit, she thought. She exhaled and grabbed Steve's arm; pulling him over to the side to talk.

     "Natasha – what do you mean, ' _we stay behind'?_ " Steve whispered.

     "It's not a go-to option; it's a last-resort – _if_ something happens and we can't make it to the top in time."

     Steve clenched his jaw and sighed sharply; almost irritated. "Look," Natasha began, "I know what these people mean to you – they mean something to me too, but what happens if we can't get Wanda out in time and Ross' men figure out that they're at the top waiting for us? We can't just make them stay put and wait for us to come if we can't get up there in time."

     Steve's face relaxed and he met Natasha's eyes before sighing. "I know it's not the best idea in the world... but it's the safest. It's better if only we stay behind than if everyone stays behind." Natasha explained.

     "I know." Steve whispered softly, "You're right."

     "Besides," Natasha and Steve both turned their heads to look at the team in the center, "It's only _if_ something goes wrong."

     Steve nodded. Natasha patted him on the back and half-smiled, then the two of them paced forward and re-joined the rest of the team to explain.

     Natasha grabbed her bag and pulled out five tiny earpieces. She tossed one to Sam, then to Scott, and then to Clint. "Alright, put these in."

     The three of them nodded and placed the tiny devices inside their ears and turned them on. Steve explained, "Bucky is waiting at the top of the facility with a jet ready to take off on cue."

     Natasha pitched in, "The three of you are going to _carefully_ make your way to the top to join him; try hard as possible not to draw attention to yourselves."

     Steve nodded. "We'll talk through the earpieces Natasha just gave you. If anything happens on our end and we signal you to take off; you take off. If anything happens on your end; _you take off._ "

     "Signal us and if we have Wanda, we'll try our best to get up there as soon as possible, but if all of you feel like you need to get out of here then get out of here." Natasha ordered, "Don't wait up."

     The three of them nodded, but Clint spoke, "Nat,"

     " _Don't_ wait up." Natasha choked. Clint sighed and lowered his head, but he agreed.

     "Alright; _go_." Natasha urged. And with that, the three of them forced themselves out of the ring and disappeared around the corner.

     She turned to Steve and met his gaze before speaking, "You ready?"

     He nodded and half-smiled, "Let's go find Wanda."

     Natasha grabbed her duffle-bag and the two of them took off around the corner. They began to make their way up the stairs to the control room where all the security panels were located. Natasha had visited this place on more than one occasion due to her work with SHIELD, so she knew her way around. One of the many things she knew was that, because the facility is stranded in the middle of the Pacific, the signal can come and go from time to time. Last time she was here, the connection to the security cameras in the control room went out twice. Normally, if the signal is lost, it's lost for between two minutes to ten minutes tops. After ten minutes, the men working in the control room go downstairs to the electrical boxes to look at things and fix the problem if there is one. There's always three men in the control room, when this happens – two of the men go to check things out while the other man always stays behind.

     "Well, it's been roughly ten minutes," Natasha whispered while checking her watch, "So the guys in the control room should be leaving to go look at the electrical box right about..." two semi-bulky men walk out from the doors to the control room and turned the corner; small-talking the entire way down. Satisfied, Natasha finished, "... now."

     Steve pulled the ML-20 out of Natasha's bag. "What are you doing?" she asked as he stood up with the gun in his hand.

     "Ten bucks says the guy in the room is scrawny and unarmed," he said as he reached his arm down for Natasha to grab. He pulled her to her feet and motioned to the room – where he made quite an entrance.

     He opened the doors casually. Natasha smirked... because Steve was right – the guy sitting at the control panel was thin as a rake and completely unarmed; no visible guns, no Tasers in his pocket or on the table... _okay... what are you planning to do, Rogers?_ Natasha thought.

     The scrawny man in the chair didn't turn around or even look back, but instead assumed the other guys had come back and began to talk, "Back so soon?" he chuckled, "Well, if you're planning on saying 'problem; fixed' then we've got _another_ problem because the original problem is certainly not–" the man swiveled casually around in his chair to face his two friends, but instead faced Natasha and Steve; who had a gun pointed at his face. He gulped, "–fixed..."

     Natasha followed the man's eyes to the walkie-talkie on the opposite side of the table and as he began to reach frantically for it, Natasha leaped over and kicked his chair out from underneath him; causing him to fall flat on his tailbone. With that, she swiped the walkie-talkie from its spot on the table and clutched it tight in her hands. The man moaned from the floor; a moan of pain, shock, and confusion.

     Natasha took out the "Tony-tech" from her bag and flicked a few switches on it; re-rendering the viewing-screens and the security cameras of their use. She nodded at Steve and crossed her arms.

     Steve tossed the gun to Natasha and grabbed the man by his shirt. They were nose-to-nose as Steve demanded, "Where are you keeping Wanda Maximoff?"

     The man looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he shakily spoke, "I don't know who that is!" The man closed his eyes and turned his head; scared half-to-death.

     Steve didn't count out the fact that maybe this man _actually_ _didn't_ know who she was, but that didn't stop him from getting an answer. He yanked the man up off the floor by his shirt and turned him forcefully to face the screens. He observed all of them before pointing to the one with Wanda on it.

     "Where is this cell located?" He asked aggressively.

     "This one?" The man asked pointing to the screen, still shaking. He adjusted his glasses on his face and gasped, "Okay! That cell is on the..." The man paused to think, "–first floor; second hallway to your left... cell A47"

     Steve let go of the man's shirt and looked at Natasha. Before he had a chance to object, Natasha roundhouse kicked the man right across his face; leaving him unconscious with an imprint of Natasha's boot on his right cheek. She smirked at the mark she had left on the man's face, and then she turned on her heel, swiped her bag from the floor, and dragged Steve out of the room. "You owe me ten bucks," Steve reminded her.

     "I'm _not_ giving you ten bucks." Natasha assured.

 

     "A47..." Steve repeated on their walk down to the first floor. "Second hallway to the right..."

     When they reached her cell room, Natasha jumped and reached into her bag; grabbing the 'tony-tech' and turning off the cameras. "We need to do this fast, it's a long walk from the first floor back up to the fourth but as soon as the other guys get there, they're going to set off an alarm."

     "Wait, how do you know?" Steve asked.

     "A; it's common-sense – there's an unconscious man on the floor with a boot mark on his face. B; one of the trips I took here was during their emergency protocol sessions – the alarm was one of them." Natasha assured.

     "Do you think an alarm will go off if we tamper with the door while it's locked? This is a completely different cell used for completely different  reasons–"

     "–I _think_ we'll be fine." Natasha aimed the gun at the metal door.

     "And if we're not?" Steve asked. Natasha lowered her gun.

     A couple moments passed before she raised her gun, loaded it, and answered "Then try not to trip when you run." The trigger was pulled and once more, the mist was sprayed all around the door. Once the hole was formed, Steve and Natasha exchanged a look, nodded, and leaped through to the other side. What they found on the other side was not what they wished to.

     Wanda had been strapped into a straitjacket. Her ankles were cuffed with steel to the floor of her cell. And to top it off, she wore an electroshock collar around her neck.

     Natasha covered her mouth, "Jesus."

     They were horrified. _What the hell did she do to deserve this?_ Steve thought. Wanda didn't speak, she didn't even turn her head. She couldn't, or she'd zapped with electricity of Lord knows how much. But her eyes shifted to the side to see them.

     "Wanda," Steve softened as he approached her, "We're gonna get you out of here." The closer Steve got to her cell bars, the more he realized that the bars were lined with a glowing red. It was hot, radiating an extreme heat the closer he got. Wanda's eyes grew bigger and she grunted; trying her hardest not to shake her head. Steve misread her actions and came closer to comfort her, "Wanda, you're going to be alright–" extended his hand to clamp around the bars and Wanda yelped and turned her head to them.

     "No! Don't touch the bars!" She cried fearfully and Steve jumped back. Wanda yanked her head back to the center and screamed. Steve watched the electricity from the collar strike against her neck. A chill traveled down Natasha's spine as she watched. Tears filled Wanda's eyes from the pain as the shocks went away and she breathed heavily.

     It took both Steve and Natasha a moment to take in what had just happened, and once they did, Natasha spoke "That's enough for me." She ran up to the side of the bar with the ML-20 and stood to the side. She gestured to Steve, "Step back." He nodded and stepped off to the side.

     Natasha examined the bars for a moment. The glowing red definitely worked as an electroshock collar for the cell. "I'm not sure if this will work or not..." Natasha loaded the gun and pointed it at the bars, " _but_..." she pulled the trigger. The mist reached the red, and it wrapped itself around it and traveled down every sign of it. Natasha gazed as the mist devoured the red and in a matter of moments, it was gone.

     Both of them gasped with relief. "Okay... no more red." Natasha exhaled; joyful that it had been as easy as it was.

     Steve ran up to the bars and wrapped his hand around one of them. He pressed his face against it and softened, "You're gonna be okay, Wanda. Hang in there." She couldn't move any part of her body in fear of being shocked again, but Steve swore he saw the ends of her lips curl upwards slightly in a smile. He lowered his head, "Can you get the bars?" he asked and turned to Natasha.

     Natasha loaded the gun once more, "Let's find out." She aimed the gun away from Wanda and sprayed the mist from the gun. Hopefully that it would work as it always had, she waited for the mist to create a hole in the bars. After a few seconds, the mist cloud disappeared... but the cell bars didn't.

     Natasha was dumbfounded, " _No_..." she whispered, "No!"

     Wanda closed her eyes and tried not to move. Steve saw a tear trickled down her cheek.

     Natasha was unable to function. She felt like she had let everyone down. In a few moments, Ross' men would come and set off an alarm, and then all three of them would be locked up. _This is my fault,_ she thought; even though deep down she knew it wasn't. Her eyes watered, "I..." she began, "I'm _so_ _sorry_ , Wanda..." she fought the urge to cry. Steve rushed to her, stroking her arm.

     "It's not your fault, Nat." He whispered.

     "I mean... I know, but–"

     "Natasha..." Steve interrupted, gripping her arm tighter.

     "What?" she looked at him and he looked up at the bars. Natasha followed his eyes and looked at the bars, and what she saw rendered her speechless.

     Small puffs of gas began to rise from the bars, like it did the others. As the gas rose, the bars became smaller. They watched in amazement, and once all the gas stopped rising and disappeared from their view... a hole was formed in the bars. Natasha leaned back and gasped.

     "You're right – it's all your fault." Steve teased and ran over to the hole. Natasha chuckled slightly and watched him go before joining him inside.

     Steve bent down on a knee to examine the collar around her neck and then he exhaled, "There's no off-switch." It got quiet. Wanda lowered her eyes.

     Natasha paused, "Okay then... what do we do?"

     Steve sighed, "We're gonna have to take it off while it's still on... there's a clamp in the back."

     "Won't that hurt her?" Natasha raised her voice.

     "You got any better ideas, Natasha?!" Steve turned to her; his expression and tone a mixture of anger and fear.

     Natasha sighed. She stepped back and gestured for Steve to continue. He turned to Wanda. "Alright, I'm gonna try and do this as fast as I can. I'm gonna un-clamp the latch in the back and then I'm gonna pull it off, okay?" Wanda blinked knowingly.

     "Okay – 1..." he wrapped his hands around her neck to reach the clamp, "2..." Wanda held her breath, "...3." He quickly undid the latch. He felt the heat and electricity developing inside the collar and before it had a chance to shock her or himself, he flung it across the room. The electricity pulsed around it as it landed on the floor, and they watched as it stopped.

     Wanda breathed and leaned her head over; coughing. She rested her head against Steve's shoulder. He hesitated for a second, but then he wrapped his arms around her. She began to cry.

     Steve rubbed her back. Natasha rushed over and got down on her knees. Wanda looked up and leaned towards Natasha as she extended her arms to hug her.

     "I'm so sorry, Wanda..." Natasha apologized in their embrace.

     Wanda shook her head, "No. It's not your fault." She raised her head.

     Steve helped remove the straitjacket from her body while Natasha removed the cuffs from her ankles with a bobby-pin.

     "Alright, we've got to go now." Natasha explained. Her and Steve helped Wanda to her feet. She wobbled slightly.

     "Can you walk?" Steve asked with one hand on her back. Wanda nodded, "Yes."

     "Okay... can you _run_?" Natasha asked. Wanda looked at her confused and paused, "What?"

     "I'm taking that as a yes – let's go." Natasha pulled on her arm and Steve kept his hand on Wanda's back as they hopped out the hole in the door. Natasha paced to the end of the hall to see if the coast was clear, and then she urged them to follow.

_I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought – by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but... I can see now I was really sparing myself. I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand._

     They walked casually to the stairs on the other side of the floor; trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Natasha kept a close eye on their forward surroundings while Steve kept watch behind them. Wanda stayed low in between them.

_I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do, it's all any of us should._

     They made it to the top of the prison without being spotted. A couple steps away sat a jet with Sam, Clint, & Scott inside and Bucky at the pilot's seat waiting patiently and hopefully for them to arrive. 

_So no matter what, I promise if you..._

     They inhaled and walked over to the jet in the same formation they'd kept the entire walk up. They loaded Wanda onto the jet and waited for her to get strapped into her seat. Natasha followed behind her, and then Steve. The platform to the jet closed and Clint turned to them.

_If you need us; if you need me..._

     "Aww darn it," he whined, "we were hoping we'd get to leave without you."

_I'll be there._


	2. Chapter 2

6:23am.

Silence.

Not complete silence. There was still the soft chirping of the Junco perched on the skinny branch outside Natasha's window, the movement of the stream close within the field of tall, skeletal birch trees, and the ticking of the clock hanging above Natasha's headboard.

But there was no sound of human activity. More accurately, no sound of Steve Rogers activity.

Natasha walked across the hardwood to the window pane. The glass was scattered with tiny drops of rain, much like the rest of the world – or as far as the eye could see – was. The sky was a dull, nasty looking greyish-bluish color and the grass – which had been an ugly, dead yellow a few days ago – was now a soft emerald green.

Three days, they had been here. For the most part it hadn't been all terrible, aside from the fact that they were hiding and this place was their safe house – or at least, the first of many.

Natasha peered outside, in attempts to see through the blur of leftover droplets on the glass, and saw no Rogers.

Normally at this time of day, in the late dawn, he would be outside opposite the stream chopping wood. He said it's how he copes with stress nowadays, much like how he would destroy his punching bags after being fished out of the ice.

But today he was not outside chopping wood. Strange, Natasha thought.

Instead he was on the sofa downstairs with his eyes glued to the television. He was hunched over, elbows resting uncomfortably on his thighs, almost unmoving while the people on the TV spoke. Strang-er, Natasha thought.

Natasha stood at the top of the stairs watching him from behind the wall. He had fixed himself a cup of coffee, which sat on the table behind him – cold & untouched – next to small collection of magazines and a giant stack of newspapers that they had taken from every newspaper rack within 10 miles. As for Steve, still, he sat quietly on the edge of the cushion.

Natasha tried to make out the muffled speech from the TV, but she couldn't decipher anything – only that it was a female who spoke through the screen. Must be the news, Natasha thought; and if so, she worried about exactly why Steve was so invested in the latest story.

And she was right. She hopped over the last step of the staircase and stood against the kitchen counter casually while the woman on channel four continued to speak.

"What are you watching?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms softly.

Steve's eyes remained fixated on the screen. "The news."

Natasha exhaled, rolling her eyes. "No. I mean what are you watching?"

She got no direct answer from him in return. What she did get was much worse. 'Vigilante Criminals Escape From Prison' subtitled the story along with security footage from the event on replay at the top right corner of the screen.

"The group of vigilantes, who wreaked havoc at the Leipzig airport in Germany, have escaped from jail. These said 'criminals' lead by Avenger Captain America have been missing from their cells for the past 3 days. The sources from the supermax raft facility they were sentenced to say that they were busted out by leader Captain America himself, Steve Rogers, along with fellow Avenger Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff."

And with that, she turned the TV off. "I guess it doesn't matter how many newspapers we take – it's still going to get out to the public."

Steve swiveled around and rested his arm on the frame of the sofa to meet Natasha's eyes. "What do we do?"

Natasha snickered and turned away to pour a cup of coffee herself. She curled her lips and clicked her tongue, before exhaling – "There's nothing we can do..." she pushed herself up onto the marble counter and sipped her drink. "Like you said, we're outside the law on this one."

Steve furrowed his brows, "you weren't there – how did you know I said that?"

"Lang's a very chatty person."

"What about me?" a voice sounded from behind the wall – Scott Lang's voice. He swung around the corner of the stair rail and joined them in their talk. There was a slight chuckle exchanged from Steve and Natasha, but then there was an obvious droop in the tones of their faces. Confused, Scott looked towards Natasha, who flicked on the TV and gestured her hands towards it. Scott followed her gesture and turned his head to face the screen. His expression sank. Silence grew. "No..." he whispered. Then said aloud, "no, no!"

"Authorities have been scouring location after location and speaking to sources that just might have any clues or information about their whereabouts in attempts to re-capture these criminals. No luck so far, but General Ross, the boss behind this man-hunt, has promised they will be found, brought in, and punished in time."

"No! I thought we were finished with that! I thought it was over!" Scott cried. Natasha shrugged.

"Look at where we're standing, Lang, does it look like it's over?" Sam turned his heel from behind the corner and was now engaged in conversation. Steve stood up.

"It's not over. Not for a long time... We're going to be here for quite a while." Steve explained.

"Not just here – we're constantly going to be on the move. We can't stay in one place for too long; we've already been here the past 3 days – who knows how long it'll be before we start packing again." Natasha hopped down from the countertop and leaned herself against the edge. 

"Exactly." Steve gestured. "You heard the news; Ross and his men are scavenging any and every location they can get their hands on."

Natasha nodded. "It's only a matter of time before–"

"–before they find us? Before we're prisoners again?" Wanda chirps. "I'm not going back there. I won't be put in a strait jacket and a shock collar again."

"Nobody's going to put you in a shock collar, Wanda." Steve softened.

"Is this how y'all's conversations normally play out? What, you just join together at random times like in movies?" Scott eased.

"That's what they told me over the microphone in my cell before they came in with bulletproof shields and 10Amp Tasers." Wanda spoke. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to her. "They said they weren't going to hurt me; that they only wanted to protect me. But I saw inside their heads. I knew what they were really going to do." The room grew tense – eerie – and Steve lowered his head.

"They cuffed my feet to the floor of my cell and put me in a strait jacket. It wasn't until later that night they realized how easily I could have escaped – and I almost did. That's when the red light came on and lined the cell bars and the walls. It was some sort of magnetic field that kept everything inside, inside and everything outside, outside. My powers could not work with that red light on. The men came back a few minutes later with Tasers of 15Amps and loaded 22-Magnums. That red light went off – but not for long. They tackled me face-down onto the floor and strapped me back into the jacket and the cuffs... but this time they put a shock collar around my neck. If I so much as shifted my foot, a 25mAmp shock would be sent through my body. Then, the men left and the red light came back on. I was scared to breathe." Wanda delved, softly trembling with every word. "I'm not going back there."

"You won't have to." Everyone turned to see Bucky leaning against the stair rail. Wanda exhaled. "I'm going to turn myself in."

"No – you're not." Steve scolded.

"It's my fault Wanda was locked up – it's my fault all of y'all were. It's my fault that accords were brought up..." Bucky turned to Steve and Natasha, "it's my fault the two of you were on opposing sides." Natasha sighed and looked down at her feet and Steve flexed his jaw. "I got you all into this mess... I'm the one who's gonna get you all out of it."

"By what? Turning yourself in to Ross? That's suicide." Sam uncrossed his arms; his face creased with worry lines.

"And it's pointless. They're not just out for you anymore; they're out for all of us. Turning yourself in would just make things ten times worse than they already are – you know everything about us and where we're going – who knows what crazy things they'd do to get that information from you." Natasha explained.

"If you go, we all go – and I'm not counting on that happening... not today – not ever." Steve furrowed. But then there was a sudden change in his face and his eyes relaxed. He chuckled, "besides... you really think we'd just let you off that easily after our hike through hell to keep you safe?"

Bucky looked to floor, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his lips formed a slight smile. "Touché"


	3. Chapter 3

     “Nobody’s turning anybody in.” Natasha explained. “And as long as we prepare, nobody’s going back to jail – but if we don’t start thinking ahead of the situation than we can’t rule it out as a possibility.”

     “How do we do that?” Steve asked, “How do we prepare? It’s General Ross. We don’t know this guy; we don’t know how he thinks.”

     “I know somebody that does.”

     All eyes turned to see Clint, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

     Natasha smirked. “Somebody finally got their ass out of bed.”

     Clint tucked his hands behind his back and bowed his head, “G’mornin’.”

     “Wait, back up – what do you mean; you know somebody that’s had a few go-at-it’s with this guy?” Sam cocked an eyebrow. Clint nodded.

     “Who?” Steve asked.

     Before Clint had a chance to answer, Natasha’s expression contorted with discomfort, “Banner…” she whispered.

     Steve turned to meet her eyes. “Banner?”

     Natasha exhaled. Steve turned to Clint, “Banner?” he asked again; this time with an undertone of annoyance in his voice. Once more, Clint nodded.

     Steve sank into his seat. His eyes shifted to Natasha a second time. Her face screamed displeasure; tribulation – indisposition. Steve looked back at Clint, who shrugged his shoulders, and Steve shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

     “He’s our only option, Steve.” Clint claimed. “The only way we’ll be one step ahead of the game.”

     “We can get by just fine on our own.” Steve scolded.

     “You say that now, but just wait until an actual challenge comes our way.”

     “You don’t think this is an actual challenge?”

     “I think this is only the beginning compared to what’s about to come.”

     “And when what’s about to come _does_ , we’ll overcome it together like we always have.”

     “We do need help, Steve. I think Banner could be a good recourse.” Sam joined. Steve shot him an icy look, causing him to step back with his hands in the air.

     “It’s Banner or Stark. Those are our only options.” Clint demanded.

     Natasha sighed.

     “We’re not reaching out to Banner.” Steve decided. “We can’t; he’s been off the grid ever since our fight with Ultron – even if we wanted to, there’s no way to contact him.” Natasha exhaled with relief. Her face relaxed and her eyes shut. Ever since Bruce left without explanation after the outburst in Sokovia, Natasha had been on edge – with him, and herself. Steve knew this. For the longest time, a small part of her personality had shut down completely as if it didn’t even exist within her conscience anymore. Between then and the chaos in New York, it had slowly blossomed again after being withered for so long, but she still silenced at the mention of Banner’s name. If she had to work with him again, Steve could only imagine how much it would change her – temporarily or not. The fact that Clint even had the nerve to bring up the option disgusted and angered Steve. But even more so, he wasn’t even going to allow that possibility the chance to become a reality.

     After that, the room fell silent; no one person sure of what to say next since it seemed they had come to a conclusion.

     Steve broke the silence. “I believe that we can do this by ourselves. Besides, calling anybody else in would just put them in danger and I’m not willing for us to be the cause of anybody else’s death.”

     Another eerie silence fell upon them. But after a few moments, Bucky spoke. “I’m with Steve.”

     Every head in the room turned to look at him. “If we do this, we do this together… but alone.”

     Natasha’s lips formed a tiny smile. “Looks like you’ve got a supporter, Rogers.” Steve smiled at Bucky, then at Natasha.

     “I’m with him too.” Sam stated.

     “Me too.” Wanda claimed.

     “Me too.” Natasha said softly, meeting Steve’s eyes.

     Scott laughed and tossed his hands up in the air, “I guess I am too; seeing as it looks like everybody else is…” he paused, “And I’m kind of… um, I’m not very fond of the way Dr. Banner loses control and uh – you know, turns into an enormous green rage monster.” Bucky chuckled.

     “Get in line.” Natasha eased.

     Steve turned his attention to Clint, who grinned childishly at Natasha’s remark. But then his goofy smile faded and Natasha eyed him.

     “Clint?” she tensed.

     He took a brief pause, but then shook his head with amusement. “I’m in.”

     Every soul in the room relaxed. “Alright then,” Steve exhaled, “Nobody gets called in.” The team nodded and went their separate directions.

     Steve got up from his seat and made his way over to the sofa table. He picked up his cup of coffee and smelt it; making a gross face. He dipped his finger in it and rolled his eyes. “Waste of produce.”

     Natasha chortled and watched him as he made his way over to the coffeemaker aside the microwave. She smirked, then said “You know, if you aren’t gonna drink it – why make it?”

     Still with his back turned, he quipped “If you aren’t gonna say anything nice – why say anything at all?”

     Natasha laughed and Steve looked over his shoulder to smile.

     After a moment or two, Natasha stood up from her seat and made her way over to Steve’s side. She propped herself up on the counter. “Hey,” she kicked his hip playfully, forcing him to look up at her with a cocked eyebrow.

     “Thank you.” She acknowledged. Steve lowered his head with his lips curled and nodded.

     “Looks like I owe you again.” She suggested. He rolled his eyes and pressed the grind button on the coffeemaker, “No.” he said simply.

     Following his gesture, Natasha rolled her eyes and kicked him in his side again; this time with a little more force.

     “Will you stop that?” he whined; pushing her foot away and causing her whole body to shift to the right. But she forced herself back.

     “You can’t just keep brushing it off,” she explained, “-like it’s nothing.”

     “It _is_ nothing.” He assured her. “Don’t worry about it.”

     Natasha wasn’t in the mood to argue with him, so she bit her tongue and gave up on trying to convince him. Instead, she brought up another, slightly lighter subject. “What are you gonna do without your shield?”

     Steve sat his freshly made cup of espresso down next to the machine and laughed. “Haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

     “Why’d you give it up?”

     He sighed. “It’s complicated… Tony brought up the fact that it was his father’s shield and that I didn’t deserve it–”

     “So you just gave it to him?”

     “I just gave it to him.”

     “You know you didn’t have to, right? It was just Tony being Tony.”

     “I didn’t have to. But I did.”

     “Are you regretting it, now?”

     “I have Bucky back and he’s with a group of people he can trust and rely on. That’s worth more to me than a Frisbee.”

     Natasha lowered her eyes. “I can’t relate.”

     Steve sighed. He hopped up onto the countertop and scooted next to her. He placed his hand on her thigh, interrupting the twiddling of her thumbs. They met each other’s eyes, and Steve gave a curt nod indicating that she doesn’t have to worry. But he knew that what she said was untrue. _I think you can relate_ , Steve thought. _You just don’t realize it_ …

     Breaking the silence, Steve asked “What exactly did Tony tell you the day you came reaching out to me?”

     Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed. “Not much. Just that I was a fool for helping you and Barnes escape – also that T’Challa told Ross what I did so they’d come looking for me.”

     Steve’s expression tightened. _Son of a gun_ , he thought. “Do you think they’ll actually come for you?”

     Natasha tilted her head to consider it, but then brushed it off with a laugh of seer amusement. “I’d _love_ to see them try.”

 

 

     “Any ideas on exactly how we can pull this off without help?” Clint asked; scratching the back of his neck.

     “ _That_ … is a question you’ll have to ask Steve.” Wanda said crossing her arms.

     Clint groaned, “Please – he’s not gonna have any ideas. He’s probably just as empty handed as we are.”

     Wanda tilted her head. “Either way, we’ll figure something out. This is Steve we’re talking about. I trust him.” She pursed her lips, “Besides; when has he ever let us down?”

     “Never… oh wait; never – _except_ for that one time he got us all arrested and rewarded us all with the lovely title of _criminals_.” Clint laughed.

     Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Why are you being so pissy? Are you actually opposed to the fact that he wants us to do this by ourselves?”

     “I’m not opposed to anyone – especially not Captain America. I just want to make sure that we consider all our options.”

     “We have. And we’ve _made a decision_.”

     “I understand that. I’m just not completely convinced that the decision we made is the best.”

    “So you _are_ opposed.”

     “I’m _not_ opposed. I’m just…” Clint lowered his head. “I’m just worried.”

     Wanda sighed and her eyes wandered. She stepped closer beside him and extended her arm to touch his shoulder; rubbing circles with her thumb against his collarbone.

     “I know you are,” she soothed; sliding her hand to the other side of his neck and wrapping her arm slightly around his upper body. He looked up and at her; relaxing slowly. Wanda half-smiled, “I can read your mind, remember?”

     Clint chuckled and removed her arm from his shoulder before standing up, “Stay outta’ there.” He said playfully; swirling his pointer-finger around in circles a few couple inches away from his temple. Wanda smirked. He reached his hand down and wiggled his fingers; indicating for her to grab on. Following, she grabbed his hand and he hoisted her up from her seat and patted her on the back.

     “You got a good thing going here, kid.” He said; walking a couple feet ahead of her before turning his head back, “Don’t blow it.” And with that, they both walked down the hallway into the kitchen to find Steve and Natasha deep in conversation.

     “Wanda, Clint,” Steve nodded.

     “Miss Romanoff, Mr. America,” Clint bowed.

     Steve raised his eyebrows, “ _Captain_ America,” he corrected.

     “Same difference,” Clint claimed; skipping to the other side of the island and leaning himself against the counter. “You know, I gotta ask – do you have any idea how we’re gonna do this without help from outside?”

     “ _Clint_ …” Wanda warned, raising her eyebrows.

     Clint put his hand in her face, “Chill,” he hushed.

     Steve began, “So far; no–”

     “–but he’ll figure something out; _we’ll_ figure something out – together – with no help from anybody outside. Understood?” Natasha demanded.

     Clint raised his hands above his head and leaned back father against the countertop. “Yes ma’am.”


	4. Chapter 4

     Their decision had been made – they would get through this in some way, shape, or form without any help from anybody out of their circle. This included family members, friends, and anybody who could be used against them if the time came down to it. Of course, everybody had their worries. What would they do if Ross took in somebody they cared about in attempts to draw them in? There’s no way they could guarantee the safety of their families; then again – there never was.

     Which is why they refused help. If nobody gets brought in – chances are nobody gets hurt except for them; if any.

     Wanda brushed her thumb over the TV remote and pressed the button to turn it on. On came the news for the third time this morning. Tired of listening to the anchor ramble about their escape, Natasha rolled her eyes. “Change the channel.”

     Before Wanda had a chance to consider, Steve jumped in. “Don’t – we need to keep an eye on what they’re saying.” The lady on the channel’s speech was spotty and hard to comprehend due to the poor dish signal. Steve urged, “Turn it up.”

     After a few attempts to filter out the woman’s voice, Clint gave up patience. “Go to channel forty-five; it’s another news station. We’ll probably be all over the broadcast there as well.”

     Wanda surfed through the different channels until she came across forty-five. “This it?” she asked.

     Clint nodded, “yeah – turn it up.”

     “Wait – call the rest of the team in.” Steve said.

     Wanda paused the broadcast. Clint ran down the hallway and called “Everybody in the living room, now!” With great concern, down the stairs came Sam, Bucky, and Scott – rushing to join the circle around the sofa table. Wanda resumed.

_“There is still no word from General Ross or the CIA about the situation–”_

     “CIA? The CIA’s involved!?” Scott wined.

    “I'd be more shocked if they _weren't_ involved.” Natasha sank.

_“But the hunt for team Captain America still continues; in desperate hopes that these criminals are returned back to their cells in one week’s time. Said criminals – Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang, and Natasha Romanoff-”_

     “Damn,” Natasha mumbled; looking down at the floor.

     “They said our names.” Clint leaned back.

     “Is that bad?” Wanda questioned; looking over her shoulder with worry lines creasing her face.

     “It doesn’t exactly make things any better.” Clint grabbed hold of his kneecaps and hunched over in his seat.

     “Hang on – stop talking!” Steve demanded and turned the TV up louder.

_“–could be anywhere right now, they might even be standing next to you. So we plead, if you see these people or know anything about them or where they are, please notify the authorities so proper action can be taken. Thank you, and be safe.”_

     Wanda flicked the screen off. The room was silent and tense; no one person sure of how to react – with the exception of Scott.

     “Damn it!” he yelped angrily; knocking over the tiny plant next to the sink and causing small specs of dirt flying across the counter. He forced the palms of his hands against the top of his head; lacing his fingers together and breathing sharply.

     “Calm down, Scott,” Steve softened.

     “Calm down?” Scott questioned; snickering with amusement. “Calm down…” he mocked. “I can’t calm down!” He yelled.

     Wanda stepped back.

     Scott mumbled something to himself that the others couldn’t quite pick up as he paced angrily back and forth. “I have a family! I have an ex-wife who _divorced_ me because of my criminal records and completely shut me out of my daughter’s life–” he paused and his face sank; he groaned, “Cassie! God; I’m never going to see her again…”

     “Everything’s going to be alright, Scott – you’ll see your daughter again.” Steve eased.

     “No, no – you don’t get it. My ex-wife _won’t let me_ see her if she finds out about this – which she probably has considering we’re all over the news!”

     “Scott,”

     “Not to mention her husband is a cop. You get that? She’s married to a _cop_!”

     “Scott!”

     “What!?”

     “You have… _ants_ crawling up your legs…”

     Scott looked down. He removed his hands from his head and sighed; removing the cybernetic earpiece from his ear. “Right… forgot how quickly they react to emotion.” He opened the back door and shook the ants off his leg before locking it again. When he focused back to everyone else, he saw them all staring at him with discomfort and confusion. _Freak_ , he thought, _they probably think I’m a freak._

     “We don’t,” Wanda spoke from behind Steve.

     Scott’s eyes wandered; flustered, “Did I say that out loud?”

     Wanda shook her head and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear; embarrassed, “No. It’s just… your thoughts are really loud.”

     Scott exhaled sharply and threw his face against his palm. “Stop it with that. Ok? It’s a terrible, terrible habit of yours.”

     “It’s not like it’s on purpose – it’s reflex; same way you ‘summon’ the ants when you’re pissed off.” Wanda snapped; causing Sam to snicker and Natasha to smirk.

     “Alright, that’ll be enough.” Steve said; biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from laughing. “Scott – make sure that Cyber ear-piece tech thing is out of your ear rather than in; the ants may or may not be a dead giveaway if Ross’ goons come anywhere near here – Wanda – stay out of everyone’s head.” He ordered before politely adding, “Please.”

     They both nodded and Steve stepped back.

     “We should keep an eye on all the news channels,” Sam offered. “Stay updated on what exactly they’re saying about us; may or may not help…”

     “We’ll settle with _‘may’_ ,” Steve said and turned the TV on. After that, they spent an entire hour switching back and forth between channels – every broadcast they settled on had their names mentioned at least; or what seemed like; a couple hundred times per speech. It gave Scott goosebumps – not that he wasn’t used to being a criminal, but the thought of him blowing his second chance with Cassie engulfed him with worry.

     Natasha; who was smooshed on the sofa between Sam and Scott; looked back to see Steve leaned against the fridge door with his arms crossed lazily. From afar, he looked simply like a working man who had just returned home from a business trip – but up close, his tired eyes accentuated the developing bags underneath them. This entire situation had beaten the daylights out of him. Natasha was sure he stayed up at night lying in his bed just staring up at the empty ceiling; reliving and reprocessing every sequence of events that’s led up to this. She’d never verbally admit it to him, but it hurt her beyond words to see him like this, because honestly – he didn’t deserve it. He was only trying to save his best friend; the only piece he had left from his past life that for some cruel reason had been taken from him. His intentions were in the right place, and so was his heart. Agreeably, he could have handled it a little better, but the government didn’t give him much of a choice. He did what he had to do to keep Bucky safe – same way Natasha had attacked T’Challa to protect Steve and allow him some time to escape. Since when did saving someone you care about become a crime?

     Natasha parked herself against the counter across from Steve and the fridge. He closed his eyes and gave her a curt smile – and for a long while she just stared at him. God, he was tired. From the mentioned bags underneath his bottom lids to the dullness in his blue irises; even the slow pattern of his breathing said it all.

     Natasha sighed.

     Interrupting the silence; aside from the chatter from the teammates behind them, she spoke, “You holding together okay?”

     Steve opened one eyelid to meet her, but then closed it slowly and shook his head. “In the best way I can.” He rubbed his eyes.

     Natasha rested her hand against his wrist, “You should get some sleep. Something tells me you haven’t in a while.”

     Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

 _Not an option_ , Natasha thought.

     “Guys, come here!” Sam yelled from the couch. Steve’s breath hitched with alarm and Natasha whipped her head around. “What is it?” She asked; just as startled as Steve.

     Sam tilted his head, “You might wish you hadn’t asked that.”

     Steve placed his hand on Natasha’s shoulder blade and they walked quickly over to the living room. “What’s wrong – what’s going on?” Steve questioned.

     Sam turned up the TV and gestured towards the screen, “ _this_ is what’s going on.”

     Natasha and Steve’s eyes widened.

_“Authorities have been talking with some people who might have a hand in telling where these vigilantes have wandered off to – friends, co-workers; there’s been no contact made with their families yet; seeing as there’s little to none known about who they are – but judging by the talk in the air tonight from other resources, they could be brought into the picture soon.”_

     Muted footage rolled across the screen of Ross and his men interviewing close friends; Maria Hill, T’Challa, Vision, and _Tony Stark_.

     And with that, Clint sprang out of his seat, “Alright, I’ve got to go.”

     Natasha squinted her eyes, “Clint, what’s wrong?”

     Clint said nothing; fidgeting aimlessly with his gear.

     “His family,” Wanda read his mind; though she had been requested _not to_ a few times, “He’s going to help his family.”

     “By…?” Natasha pondered.

     “Relocating them; don’t know where to yet, but–”

     “Clint any and all information about your family was kept off of SHIELD’s records–”

     “Not Stark’s, though.”

     Stark. Of course. Clint had taken the entire team to his family’s house out in the country area after Banner had lost control in Wakanda. Stark knows where they live now – and even worse; he’s knows his way around. The records of Clint’s family may have been kept off of SHIELD’s radar – but that meant nothing if Tony Stark knew about it. To cherry-top the sundae – there’s no predicting how Tony would react; no telling whether he’d keep his mouth shut about it or not. If Ross was in contact with him and wanted information about Clint’s family; that is, if he even knew about them; there’s no way to guarantee that Stark wouldn’t tell him any and everything he wanted to know. And there was no way Clint was going to risk that possibility.

     And with that, Natasha stood up from her seat and ran over to him. “If you’re relocating your family – I’m coming.”

     Clint grinned, “Yeah – they’ll want to see Auntie Nat one last time.”

     Natasha’s face sank, “This won’t be the last time; don’t say that.” She rubbed Clint’s arm, “They’ll be okay.”

     In a blink, Steve was over there with them along with the rest of the team. “Where are you planning on relocating them to?”

     “Like I said – haven’t gotten that far yet. But I’m sure I’ll figure it out sometime before I get to the house. No biggie.” Clint explained.

     “Wait,” Steve turned, “Scott?”

     “Yes?” Scott asked with his head resting against his palm.

     “While you were rambling earlier… did you mention you had a criminal record?”

     Scott shut his eyes and massaged his face with his hands; humiliated. “Yes.” He sighed, “Yes, I have a criminal record.”

     “How many incidents?”

     “Too many to count– guys, I’m _not_ gonna do this–”

     “No,” Steve urged, “this is good. This can help us.”

     “How?” Natasha asked.

     Steve stepped closer to Scott, “You’re used to being on the run from the law, right?”

     Scott rolled his eyes, “Unfortunately…”

     “No – not unfortunately… Do you have any friends that you’d stay with when you weren’t in jail; considering you said your wife kicked you out?”

     “Thanks. Thanks for reminding me, pal. And – yes. I do, actually.”

     “Do you have any way to contact them?”

     “Yes, you see, I have this magical piece of technology…called a _cell phone_ ; and I happen to have all their numbers listen under their names in this magical phonebook… called my _contacts_ –”

     “I get it, Scott – do you think they can help us out?”

     Of course, the first thing Clint did was think to himself, _hypocrite… that’s what you are right now, Rogers._ Scott paced back and forth in a line; considering it before nodding, “Possibly.”

     Steve nodded. “Alright then. Clint – don’t worry about where you’ll relocate them to… Scott will figure that out.” He patted Scott’s back.

     “Wait – by myself?” Scott asked.

     “You’re the one with the magical phonebook, right?” Steve teased, “Don’t worry. We’ll be here helping you.”

     “ _They’ll_ be here helping you,” Natasha pointed to the others and grabbed Steve’s arm, “ _You’ll_ be coming with us.”

     “Nat, I need to be here; helping them,” Steve explained.

     Natasha followed behind Clint; still holding onto Steve’s forearm, “No, you need to be _there_ ,” she pointed to the jet hidden in the field of birch trees. “Helping _us_.”

     With no time to disagree, Steve grabbed his jacket from the coatrack. He looked back to the others. “Be careful,” Wanda warned.

     Steve looked down, “You too. Be safe.”

     Sam and Bucky exchanged a small laugh, “Oh – you’ve gotta kiss Wanda now.” Sam teased.

     Wanda turned to them; confused. “He’s got to… _what_?”

     Steve rolled his eyes and brushed it off. “ _Nothing_. Don’t worry about it; they’re just teasing me.” Steve began to follow Natasha and Clint out the door before stopping in his tracks and turning back; worried, “What are we gonna do about Sharon?”

     Sam and Bucky stopped laughing and exchanged worried looks. Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “I completely forgot about her. Ross _will_ question her; he probably knows by now that she brought us back our gear… she’s going to get hurt–”

     “Don’t worry about Sharon right now; Buck and I will figure something out while you’re gone… just get your ass onto the jet and go find Clint’s family.” Sam ordered and gestured to the open door.

     “Yeah, Rogers,” Natasha snuck behind him and pushed him closer to the door, “Get your ass on the jet.”


	5. Chapter 5

     Wanda watched the skinny branches of the trees and the green grass bristles sway roughly as the jet left the ground and flew off with Clint, Natasha, and Steve. She worried about Clint. She worried about all of them, of course, but most especially Clint and how he would handle the situation if it turned out his family was found by Ross before he had the chance to reach them himself. She had never met Clint’s family. Then again, it had never crossed her mind. She wondered if it had ever crossed his. She knew he had a daughter and two sons – one she did not know the name of, and one she knew had been named after Pietro. God, she hoped they were okay; that they were safe from Ross and any harm possible. _Be safe_ , she echoed in her head as if she were saying it to Clint and the others aloud, _be safe… be safe…_

     “Alright,” Sam cleared his throat; interrupting her thoughts, “Let’s get to work.” He turned to Wanda; who was forcing herself away from the back window, and Bucky, “You two and I will start thinking of new locations and safe houses to stay at–”

     “And I’ll try and contact the guys to help us out.” Scott finished. He laughed. “I find it funny how Cap made such a big deal about quote ‘ _not bringing anyone else in for help’_ but… here we are–”

     “Natasha was right,” Sam scolded, “you talk _a lot_.”

     Scott lowered his head; “right…” he pulled his phone from his back pocket, “I’ll get to it.”

     “ _Please._ ” Sam cocked his brows.

     “And how are we supposed to do our part?” Bucky asked, “It’s not like safe-houses are something we can google.”

     “We brainstorm and figure it out ourselves.” Sam explained. “It’s like hide-n-seek; you wait until the seeker passes you in your current hiding spot, then once he’s gone, you move to a different one.”

     “How do _you_ play hide-n-seek?” Wanda asked; crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

     Sam shrugged, “it’s the easiest way to win.”

     “It’s also _cheating._ ” Wanda smirked.

     Sam grew serious, “I don’t think Ross is using any rule book.”

     Wanda’s expression tightened, and then she nodded. “Ok.” She uncrossed her arms and stepped towards them, “so we just… outsmart the seeker?”

     Sam grinned, “Figuratively speaking...”

     Wanda turned to Scott. “Hey Scott; have you reached them yet?”

     Scott leaned back in his chair and turned his head, smacking his lips together, “Well…It takes longer than a minute for these guys to respond to my texts.”

     Wanda narrowed her eyes.

     “I wonder why.” Sam spat.

     “Can you quit? Can you _please_ quit it with that?” Scott swiveled his chair around.

     Sam raised his voice and crossed his arms; annoyed, “Just do your job – less talking; more doing.”

     “Since when are you the new guy in charge? Cap never gave you that title.” Scott stood up from his seat.

     “Well, he certainly never gave it to _you_.” Sam stepped closer. He was nose to nose with Scott; trying desperately hard not to beat the shit out of him. “I’m not gonna fight with you, Lang.”

     “Why? Too scared tic-tac is gonna toss you around like a rag-doll again?” Scott pushed.

     “No; too scared to go to jail for murdering a pest – quite literally.”

     “Ladies… are you done yet?” Wanda stepped between them.

      Bucky chuckled, “Wait what do you mean, ‘toss you around like a rag-doll _again_?’”

     “I don’t wanna talk about it!” Sam turned away.

     “Good – _don’t_.” Wanda warned. “You want us to get to work; so help us do that.”

     Sam and Scott both nodded before glaring at one another. The phone on the table buzzed – _Scott’s_ phone.

Scott high-fived himself subtly and ran over to answer. “Hey man,” he said and grinned at the other three watching him, “you got a place for them?”

 

 

     Steve threw his jacket on over his grey shirt. He leaned his arm against the overhead area and watched the town thrive underneath him. Clint played with some switches and the jet flew higher in the air; giving Steve a better view and a better opportunity to take in everything. This was the closest he’d been to other people, aside from his team of course, within the past week or so.

     Not that the company he _had_ was terrible. Natasha wandered over to him and patted him on the back. “You alright, champ?”

     Steve grinned and nodded. “Keen.”

     Natasha draped her hand on his shoulder and watched the people underneath them as well. Her small smile faded and she sighed quietly… and Steve said aloud what she was thinking.

     “Something is going to happen to those people because of us.” Steve tightened, “I know it.”

     Despite sharing the thought, Natasha denied it. “They’ll be fine. Ross doesn’t know where we are.”

     “He will.”

     It stayed quiet for a long while. Natasha went back to her seat after rubbing the spot on Steve’s shoulder where she had rested her hand. He didn’t object. He just let her go – even though he wanted her to stay next to him.

     “How far is the house from here?” Natasha asked.

     Clint leaned back, “A couple hours… roughly.”

     Steve sank into one of the seats in the jet. _What are we gonna do for a couple hours… roughly?_

     Natasha looked to Clint. His hands clang to the control lever so tight his knuckles had turned pale and his veins sprang up from his hands and arms. God, he was so nervous – so worried. And why wouldn’t he be? He had put his family in danger and he didn’t even realize it until now. But even if he had, there was next to nothing he could’ve done. The first day after their escape had been chaos. None of them could even step outside without fear of being seen. Ross and his men weren’t airborne that day; so that’s where the team went – up. The jet they had escaped on was SHIELD’s, so it was layered with reflective panels that disguised the jet with the sky. For hours they did nothing but fly around in circles until Ross and his men left the area – then they ran around scouring to find empty, abandoned houses to stay in for as long as they possibly could before the men returned… and that would be soon. They had been there the past three days; Ross has enough men to cover more than half the United States – of course by now they would be retracing their steps in attempts to find them… which is why they had to act fast to retrieve Clint’s family.

     “Clint,” Natasha soothed. He didn’t meet her eyes, but he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips to indicate he was listening. “It’s gonna be alright. Your family will be fine.”

     “Yeah – I hope so.” Clint said.

     “Laura’s smart; I’m sure she followed the plan as soon as she heard the news.” Natasha bet.

     Steve raised his head. “What plan?”

     Clint sighed. “When I joined SHIELD, Laura and I sat down and came up with an emergency escape plan in case anything bad ever happened. There’s another house a few miles back that she and the kids are supposed to go to. If I’m right, she’s already there.”

     Steve furrowed his brows, “So why are we flying out to _your_ house?”

     Clint looked back, “Because I _don’t know_ if I’m right.”

     “We’re just checking – better safe than sorry.” Natasha nodded to Steve.

     After a few minutes of eerie silence and loud, wandering thoughts, Clint sighed desperately. “Yeah…” he flicked a switch on the control panel and adjusted himself in his seat, “I _better_ be right.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was really short, so I decided to upload the next one today as well. Enjoy!!

     Natasha’s mind was fuzzy; with the last remnants of a dream being chased away by the realization that she was awake again. It was a nice dream – something of her sitting peacefully on the swing of a front porch, but the details faded fast as she tried to recall them. It was short and quick – unlike most of her dreams that could be rather classified as nightmares; which dragged on for what seemed like hours and hours. Most of them were of the Red Room and the demons that lived there – that lived within her. Once in a blue moon would she have a decent dream, and thank God she had one this time around because across from her lay Steve. He slept with his head rested against the back of his seat and his knees tucked lazily to his ribs. He lay almost motionless, but the sound of his faint breathing echoed in the silence – well, silence apart from Clint’s soft snores from the pilot’s seat. He must have set the jet on autopilot so he could get some rest.

     Natasha rubbed her eyes; curious as to how long they had been asleep. For quite a while she guessed, because last she could recall it was sunny and blue when they left, but the sky was now a deep navy. _So much for ‘a couple of hours’,_ she thought.

     The last thing she remembered was having small conversation with Steve – not what it was about; just that it was had.

     Steve shifted in his seat, causing Natasha’s eyes to jump with alert. He slowly opened one blue eye, then the other to meet her emerald ones. “Did I wake you?” he asked her before he was even half-awake.

     Natasha shook her head. “No.”

     Steve yawned, and then he shifted his tired eyes to see Clint; completely knocked out in the pilot’s seat. He jumped slightly at first; waking himself up, before coming to the same realization Natasha had.

     “Relax,” Natasha teased quietly, “it’s on autopilot.”

     Steve leaned back and exhaled; closing his eyes. “Of course it is.” He chuckled.

     Natasha stood up from her seat and walked clumsily over to the front of the jet to look out the window. She recognized the area. And she sighed with delight and relief. “Clint,” she punched his arm softly – causing him to raise his brows – before grabbing hold of his shoulder and jerking him gently to the side.

     “Yeah? What?” He asked with his lids still shut tight.

     “We’re here.”

     Clint opened his eyes forcefully and blinked rapidly trying to wake himself up. At that, Steve got up from his seat and joined the two spies at the front.

     Clint huffed; rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, “I really wish I had coffee right now.” Steve and Natasha exchanged a look and smirked at him.

     “You won’t need it once you see them.” Natasha patted him on his shoulder and he smiled.

     “ _If_ ,” he corrected.

     She rolled her eyes, “ _When_ ,”

     Clint curled his lips and exhaled sharply, “Well,” he picked the gunk from his eyes, “I’m gonna take this baby off of auto and land her in her usual spot.” He turned to Steve and Natasha, “You two get ready to hop off.”

     Steve nodded and adjusted the collar of his jacket. He could feel the jet lowering; bringing them closer to the ground. He felt his stomach jerk, and he swallowed. _I really hope you guys are where you need to be_ , he thought to Laura, _I don’t know what we’re gonna do with Clint if you aren’t_.

     The backdrop opened slowly to reveal a field and a house a short walk from where the jet landed. The three of them began sprinting across said field to the porch of the house.

     “The lights are out,” Natasha said as they opened the door, “Is that bad?”

     Clint sighed, “We’re about to find out.” He pushed the door open; and as far as silence went – this was by far the spookiest. There wasn’t a sound to be heard in or outside the house. Clint ran his hand along the wall and flicked a light switch on; lighting up the living room. They looked around and saw everything untouched. The pillows had been placed in their spots on the sofas and chairs, the blankets had been folded, there wasn’t a single dirty dish or appliance in the sink or the dishwasher – everything looked new… which was abnormal – especially at night.

     Clint couldn’t take it anymore. He broke the silence with a bang, “Laura!” he cried out – causing her name to echo throughout the seemingly, but hopefully not, empty house. “I’m home!”

     There was no response. Natasha bit her lip.

     “Laura!” Clint yelled again; this time with more force, “I’m home!” He looked around and huffed before loudly adding, “Are you?”

     Again – no response was returned.

     Clint turned to Natasha, “Check the upstairs.”

     Natasha didn’t hesitate. She ran upstairs calling the kids’ names. “Lila! Cooper!”

     Steve followed behind her; searching aimlessly through the rooms and the hallways. “Laura!” He called, “If you’re hiding, you can come out! It’s just us!”

     “That’s right; it’s just us! It’s Auntie Nat!” Natasha searched Lila’s room. “Lila?” She choked. “Lila, its Auntie Nat and your daddy. He really wants to see you and your brothers!”

     After minutes of scouring the now confirmed to be empty household, Clint gave up on looking. There was nobody in the house. But while he was tense, he relaxed slightly. “I’m going to the barn.”

     Natasha looked at him confused. “Why? Do you think they’ll be hiding there?”

     Clint shook his head. “No, but Laura was supposed to leave a signal if she were carrying out the escape plan.”

     Steve and Natasha didn’t ask questions; though they had so many, but instead they kept quiet and followed his lead.

     Clint flung the barn doors open and turned on the light. He circled around to the opposite end with Steve and Natasha behind him. Behind a wall of hay sat a target. This is where Clint would come to practice archery with his oldest son; Cooper. It was beaten up and dusty, with tiny marks from the arrow-heads that could practically cover the entire target. Natasha and Steve exchanged a confused look.

     Clint’s hopeful spark in his eyes disappeared and he rubbed his face with his hands. “Damn it,” he choked.

     “I don’t understand,” Natasha brushed back a stand of hair from her face, “How is _this_ your signal?”

     Clint removed his hands from his face – his eyes were bloodshot. “It’s not. The signal is a blue arrow in the center of the target where the X is… This is just a target.” Clint squatted in front of it and repeated, “This is just a target…”

     Steve’s breath hitched, “Ok. Don’t panic; don’t jump to conclusions – if they were scared, it’s possible that they left without even thinking about the signal–”

     “No.” Clint interrupted. “It’s not possible. We went over the plan and the signal a million times; Laura’s smarter than that. Even if she weren’t, Cooper would’ve reminded her.” Clint’s face sank, along with the rest of him. “They’re gone… to God knows where.”

     “Clint, you’re letting your paranoia fool you.” Natasha claimed, “There’s got to be a better explanation.”

     Clint threw his hands down at his side; aggravated, “Do you have one? Honestly, Nat, do you have a _better_ explanation? Because I’m open to ideas!”

     “Don’t do this to yourself!” Natasha argued, “Think. That’s what you need to do.” She wandered her eyes; trying to think of something that could help them. “Ok – is there anything they were supposed to take with them for contact?”

     Clint brushed it off; thinking for her to even ask a stupid question like that was ridiculous, but then his eyes widened. “Actually...”

 

     They ran back to the house and Clint began digging through the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. Each one he opened, he tore apart completely, then shut aggressively. When he was done, every storage deposit in the kitchen was a cluttered mess. Natasha worried. By the looks of it, Clint didn’t find what he was looking for. _Please don’t throw a fit… please don’t throw a fit…_ she thought.

     And he didn’t.

     What he did instead was much more unpredictable. Every muscle in his body relaxed in an obvious manor and he began chuckling – but not that of a person laughing at a joke – more so a person on the verge of going insane.

     “Are you alright?” Steve asked stepping closer to the kitchen counter.

     He continued to chuckle before sighing, “Yes. I’m more than alright.”

     Natasha narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows, “I’m confused,”

     Clint exhaled and paced closer to her and Steve. “Long story short, I may or may not be able to sleep tonight.” Natasha and Steve exchanged yet another look and then turned their attention back to Clint, who shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned himself against the wall. “That communication thingy you brought up earlier?” he turned to Natasha, who had her arms crossed, “You were right.”

     Natasha grew annoyed, “What was I right about?”

     Clint cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. “When Laura and I set up this whole ‘genius’ plan, we borrowed a special SHIELD communication device; more of a walkie-talkie than a cellphone, that only the two of us could contact each other from. She may have forgotten to set up the signal but she didn’t forget the phone – it’s missing from its spot in the drawer.”

     Natasha and Steve relaxed. “Ok,” Steve started, “Do you have another one that we could use to contact her?”

     Clint shook his head, “Doesn’t work that way. It’s a one-way phone; you can only receive not send calls from it – Laura can’t contact _us_ from the other line – SHIELD developed it very tricky to use. When they gave it to us, they gave us a list of fifty different numbers that could belong to it. Only one of the numbers is active at a time. It changes every time you make a call and then the previous number deletes itself; this way the calls are untraceable. I’ll have to screw around with the different options, but if she’s around to answer then she can tell us where they are and we can go get her.”

     Steve crossed his arms, “Have you ever tried it before?”

     Clint pursed his lips, “No.”

     Natasha narrowed her eyes, “Are you sure it’ll work?”

     Clint popped the air bubble in his mouth, “No.”

     “So basically you’re just going off on a complete limb?” Natasha gave him an eye.

     Clint nodded, “Yes.”

     Steve threw his hands in the air. “Great plan, Barton.”

     Clint smiled. “Thanks.”

     “Well, you start working on that, and Steve and I will search the house again; see if there’s any other clues we missed the first time.” Natasha walked off with Steve following behind her.

     “Sounds like a plan.” Clint walked over to the phone.

     “Certainly better than yours,” Natasha mumbled as they walked up the dark stairwell. Steve snickered.

     Natasha pulled out her phone and turned on the flash to light the hallway so neither she nor Steve would miss a step. She shined it against the wall, and the both of them took their time walking up. Steve smiled at the pictures on the wall – many a different pictures of their kids and their accomplishments, pictures of Laura pregnant with Nathaniel, and pictures of entire family together as a whole; with and without their newest edition. The thought of it all made Steve smile foolishly, but the idea that that’s something he can never have made it disappear.

     “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Natasha asked him off-guard. His look of confusion was rather obvious, so she clarified, “Their family; their bond; the amount of effort put into it as well–”

     “Very,” Steve agreed, but Natasha heard the sadness behind his voice. She wanted to ask him if he was okay, though she already knew the answer, but he was not her priority; it was helping Clint find his family – which was a very stressful priority. She could and would deal with Steve at a later time; if their current crisis allowed her the opportunity to do so. She forced herself not to look at him – because if she did, she knew she would never stop.

     “This is pretty bad; Clint seems really shaken.” Steve said.

     Natasha tilted her head, “Can’t really blame him – after everything he did to protect these people? There’s no positive way to react… I can’t help but feel bad for him.”

     “Well that doesn’t surprise me; you seem shaken too.” Steve looked at her; hoping to meet her eyes, but instead he met the back of her head.

     “I do?” Natasha asked.

     “Well either you are or you should be.” Steve explained.

     “I _should_ _be_?” Natasha turned her head to look at him.

     “I’d expect.”

     Natasha stopped walking; planting herself like a tree on the top step, and crossed her arms, “Enlighten me.”

     Steve rolled his eyes slightly, “Oh come on, Nat – he’s your best friend; you’re so close to his family you might as well be a part of it.”

     “Your point?”

     “My point is – it’s normal to be worried when people you care for are in danger. It’s just… I don’t know; human nature I guess.”

     Natasha raised her eyebrow and smirked.

     Steve stepped closer; sharing the same smirk as her, “And I know you play super-hero from time to time, but I’m gonna let you in on a little secret – you’re _actually_ a human-being.” And with that, he turned her around and gently shoved her forward to the top of the stairs.

     “Whatever helps you sleep at night…” Natasha mumbled, but as much as she hated to admit it – Steve was right.

     She opened the door to Lila’s room. Her heart dropped. Clint had three children, and Natasha loved them all – but Lila had always secretly been her favorite. The two of them would run up to her room after dinner to have pretend tea-parties with her toys. To look in the corner of the room and see her small pink table untouched made Natasha’s stomach twist in knots – well, not completely untouched… her stuffed animals still sat peacefully in their tiny little plastic seats around it. _How rude_ , Natasha thought as if saying it aloud to Lila, _you left your guests to have tea-parties all by themselves._

     “Well that’s not very lady-like at all.” Natasha scolded playfully.

     “Excuse me?” Steve asked.

     “Hm?” Natasha pursed her lips and looked at Steve before realizing, “Oh sorry.”

     “I mean, I’m not a lady so…” He teased.

     “You sure act like one sometimes.” Natasha tittered, “No,” she brushed that pesky strand of hair behind her ear for the second time, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was just… well, Lila and I would come here and have tea-parties with her stuffed animals from time to time. I was referring to the fact that it wasn’t particularly nice of her to leave her ‘guests’ to dine by themselves.”

     Steve laughed at the thought of Natasha having tea-parties with stuffed animals. “That’s sweet.” He said truthfully.

     “Yeah well,” she walked over to the curtain and peered out the window, “Don’t tell Tony.” They both smiled.

      Preventing them of an awkward moment, Clint yelled from downstairs, “Guys – down here!”

     Steve and Natasha looked at each other before racing downstairs; hopeful of good news.

     And that’s what they got. Clint grinned, “I got em’.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehehe I totally forgot that I wasn't JUST posting the story on Wattpad :3  
> Oops?  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!!

     Steve and Natasha ran to join Clint at the counter with Laura on the other line. He didn’t particularly express it; but Clint had never been more relieved in his life. After all the chaos with the accords and Ross, after the terrifying past couple of hours of worry – he finally heard his wife’s voice from the other end of the line.

     “Laura?” Natasha checked, brushing back her hair from her face and clenching it tight with her fists.

     There was static and muffled voices from the other line, but after a few moments of spotty connection, Laura spoke with happiness, “Nat?”

     All three of them gasped with relief. “Natasha Romanoff, is that you?” Laura asked.

     “Hi, Laura.” Natasha smiled and bit her lip; eyes teary, but not to the point of waterworks.

     “Oh my God,” Laura laughed, but then sucked air through her teeth sharply and sniffled. “Hi.”

     “Hi,” Clint hesitated, “…honey.” Steve smirked.

     “Clint?” Laura stopped, “Clint!” and with that, it was fairly obvious she was crying; with her faint sobs echoing through the device. “You’re okay…” she whispered in between cries to her husband, “you’re alright… I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried!”

     Clint curled his lips, blinked rapidly, and looked up at the ceiling; trying desperately to hold back his tears. “You were so worried?” he laughed. “You should’ve witnessed what was going on back here.”

     Laura laughed. Then she sighed, “I’m so glad you’re okay; both of you.”

     Clint closed his eyes and smiled. “Yeah;”

     “Feeling’s mutual.” Natasha reassured. She smiled.

     There was a pause; a moment taken to exchange happy looks, before Clint spoke again. “Oh yeah Steve’s here by the way.”

     Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully. “Steve Rogers?” Laura asked surprised, “Well hi!”

     Steve smiled; but then got right to the topic. “How are you doing right now; you guys holding up okay?”

     “Oh – yes. We’re just fine where we are.”

     “Good, good. Where is that, exactly?” Clint asked.

     “We’ve been staying at–”

     They heard a familiar voice from the other line. “Hang on a minute,” Laura said to them.

     “Is that daddy?” she asked. Lila. Natasha’s face lit up and she leaped over the counter to the other side.

     “Yes, sweetheart – it’s daddy and Auntie Nat; and Captain America! Do you want to talk to them?” Laura whispered.

     “Mmhm,” Lila nodded.

     “Okay – there’s somebody who wants to talk to you...” Laura teased on the other line. Clint’s smile grew larger.

     “Hey, pumpkin!” Clint exclaimed.

     “Hi daddy.” Lila said with excitement.

     “Have you been a good girl for your mommy?” Clint asked.

     “Mmhm,” Lila said through the phone, and the others heard Laura laugh in the background and they smiled.

     “Good, good…” Clint said, “Hey, so I’m going to be coming to see you and your brothers soon!”

     “You are?” Lila awed.

     “Yeah absolutely! I’ll be home before you know it.”

     “Promise?”

     “Pinky promise.”

     “Ok.” Lila giggled. She kept quiet for a short moment before speaking up, “Daddy?”

     “Yeah, pumpkin?”

     “Mommy says that Auntie Nat is with you,”

     “She absolutely is! Do you want to talk to her?”

     “Yes.”

     “Alrighty.” Clint put the phone on speaker and handed it to Natasha; who sat next to him with her arm extended out to grab it and the goofiest, child-like smile on her face.

     “Is this Miss Lila?” Natasha teased. Clint laughed and Steve smirked.

     “Auntie Nat?” Lila whispered.

     “I’ve missed you, little one.” Natasha scratched the back of her neck and grinned.

     “Are you coming with my daddy to see me?” Lila asked hopefully.

     “You know it!” Natasha smiled. “We’ll be there before you know it.”

     “Can I tell you a secret?” Lila asked.

     “You can definitely trust me to keep it.” Natasha assured and winked at the two boys sitting at the counter with her. Both of them chuckled.

     “Ok.” Lila whispered.

     “Ok.” Natasha repeated. “Spill.”

     Lila turned to see if anyone were listening, then she leaned in closer to the phone and covered her mouth with her hand. “I’ve missed _you_ the most.”

~~~~~~~~~~

     “Dude! Why you calling me? You’re like on America’s-Most-Wanted list!” Luis answered Scott’s call with heavy worry.

     Scott sighed, “I know, I know–”

     “If _you know,_ man, then why would you do me like that?  I mean I finally got this great thing in the works with Carlos’ sister’s friend’s cousin.  He knows this major player who has all sorts of ice that his girl wears twenty-four; seven, and we are gonna relieve her of her responsibility for it, man.” 

     Scott hunched over the table pinching the bridge of his nose while Luis continued his tirade.  “I just –”

     “- these big diamonds just dripping off her ears and her fingers and stuff.  She even has some cool turquoise and mother-of-pearl, man.”

     “What do you know about mother-of-pearl Luis?”  Scott asked.

     “I know it’s expensive, and it’s big, and that’s all I need to know, Chico.” rambled Luis.

     “Ah, hell no!” Sam exclaimed.  “We are _not_ putting Clint’s family in anyplace these basket cases might recommend!”

      Scott covered the phone; instantly sorry he had made the call on speaker.  “He gets a little worked up.  Let’s…let’s just give him a minute to get it all out and then he’ll be able to focus.”

     “- and dude – Nicki has this woman who would be perfect for you.  She’s all sweet like but not really innocent.” Luis propositioned. 

     “Alright Luis, _I_ actually have something I want to talk to you about.  Do you think you can focus for me?” Scott inquired knowing that Sam was about to lose it behind him.

     “For sure man; you know me!  Even though you’re so hot you’re glowing, I got your back – ‘cause I’m your hombre – ‘cause we been through it all and we’re still standin’ – you know like some crazy statues or something or maybe like those old Cadillacs they got buried in the ground down in Texas or – ”

     “Absolutely not!”  Sam grimaced while shaking his head.  “We’re not doing this.”

     “– we should probably take a trip there sometime.  My cousin Emile and his mama live down there and they always have time for family.”

     “Luis!  Listen!  We need someplace safe to lay low for a little bit.  You got any ideas?”  Scott queried.

     “Some place to lay low?  You ain't found no place to lay low yet?  You calling me and _you aint layin’ low?_   I’ve had _two_ visits from my parole officer this week, and I’m pretty sure that the white van outside is full of guys from an alphabet agency.  And you want me to give you some place to lay low?”  Luis actually sounded more puzzled than usual.

     Sam gave Scott a sign to end the call and began pacing around the room.  “You’re probably right, Luis.  Forget that I called and – good luck with your –  thing.” Scott mumbled and disconnected.

     Wanda and Bucky had been silent during the call.  She was keeping a close eye on Sam in case she needed to walk him back from a cliff.  Bucky couldn’t hide the smirk on his face thinking how messed up Scott’s old crew was.  No wonder the guy had done time.

     “You think this is funny?” Sam accused shooting eye daggers across the room at Bucky.

     “No.  I don’t think this is funny.  It’s just nice not to be the center of everyone’s frustration.” Bucky replied.

     “I’m really sorry guys.  I thought maybe we would be able to find some place –”

     “Really?  Have you listened to those guys?  No wonder you were in jail all the time!” Sam spouted as Bucky made a ‘there you go’ gesture.

     “Hey! _Those guys_ are my friends – and now it sounds like they have extra heat on them because of me!”  Scott replied with frustration.

     “Well maybe they deserve it –”

     Wanda stepped in.  “Come on guys.  We were never going to get a place to stay from them.  We should have recognized that to Ross, they are as close to family as any of us besides Clint have.  It’s just a little frustrating that they moved on them so quickly.”

     “It shows that Ross is serious about hunting us down.” Bucky added.

     Everyone looked at Sam as Scott softened.  “What are we gonna tell Cap?”

     Sam looked at the phone ringing in his hand.  “Well I guess we’ll have to just give it to him straight.”  “Hey Steve – ” he said as he answered the call and walked to the window.

     “Hey Sam.  How’s the house hunting going?”  Steve inquired.

     “Not so great.” Sam replied and began filling him in on the situation.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

     Steve’s face darkened as he listened to Sam.  The conversation was short, and he clicked off and sighed.

     Natasha read his expression before he even had a chance to speak. “They didn’t find anything.”  She remarked with her head down.

     “No.  They didn’t, and worse it looks like Ross already has Scott’s friends under surveillance.”  Steve commented.

     Clint’s head popped up.  “That was fast.”

     “Yeah.  But it makes sense.  Those guys are like family to him and since they struck out with the Bartons, they were really the only other lead to follow.” Steve pondered.

     “So what are you thinking?”  Natasha wondered.

     “I think they should stay where they are.  They are safe and neither Ross or Stark has any idea where they could be.”  Clint offered before Steve could respond.

     Natasha smiled, “So we’re going on a road trip.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this entire story last year and forgot to post it here (the full thing is found on Wattpad). Oops? Again? Anyways! I am now publishing the entire rest of the story on here!

     "Dude! Why you calling me? You're like on America's-Most-Wanted list!" Luis answered Scott's call with heavy worry.

     Scott sighed, "I know, I know–"

     "If you know man, then why would you do me like that?  I mean I finally got this great thing in the works with Carlos' sister's friend's cousin.  He knows this major player who has all sorts of ice that his girl wears 24/7, and we are gonna relieve her of her responsibility for it, man." 

      Scott hunched over the table pinching the bridge of his nose while Luis continued his tirade.  "I just –"

     "- these big diamonds just dripping off her ears and her fingers and stuff.  She even has some cool turquoise and mother-of-pearl, man."

     "What do you know about mother-of-pearl Luis?"  Scott asked.

     "I know it's expensive, and it's big, and that's all I need to know Chico." rambled Luis.

     "Ah, hell no!" Sam exclaimed.  "We are not putting Clint's family in anyplace these basket cases might recommend!"

     Scott covered the phone; instantly sorry he had made the call on speaker.  "He gets a little worked up.  Let's...let's just give him a minute to get it all out and then he'll be able to focus."

     "- and dude – Nicki has this woman who would be perfect for you.  She's all sweet like but not really innocent." Luis propositioned. 

     "Alright Luis, I actually have something I want to talk to you about.  Do you think you can focus for me?" Scott inquired knowing that Sam was about to lose it behind him.

     "For sure man; you know me!  Even though you're so hot you're glowing, I got your back – 'cause I'm your hombre – 'cause we been through it all and we're still standin' – you know like some crazy statues or something or maybe like those old Cadillacs they got buried in the ground down in Texas or – "

     "Absolutely not!"  Sam grimaced while shaking his head.  "We're not doing this."

     "– we should probably take a trip there sometime.  My cousin Emile and his mama live down there and they always have time for family."

     "Luis!  Listen!  We need someplace safe to lay low for a little bit.  You got any ideas?"  Scott queried.

     "Some place to lay low?  You aint found no place to lay low yet?  You calling me and you aint layin' low?  I've had two visits from my parole officer this week, and I'm pretty sure that the white van outside is full of guys from an alphabet agency.  And you want me to give you some place to lay low?"  Luis actually sounded more puzzled than usual.

     Sam gave Scott a sign to end the call and began pacing around the room.  "You're probably right, Luis.  Forget that I called and – good luck with your –  thing." Scott mumbled and disconnected.

     Wanda and Bucky had been silent during the call.  She was keeping a close eye on Sam in case she needed to walk him back from a cliff.  Bucky couldn't hide the smirk on his face thinking how messed up Scott's old crew was.  No wonder the guy had done time.

     "You think this is funny?" Sam accused shooting eye daggers across the room at Bucky.

     "Not at all.  It's just nice not to be the center of everyone's frustration." Bucky replied.

     "I'm really sorry guys.  I thought maybe we would be able to find some place –"

     "Really?  Have you listened to those guys?  No wonder you were in jail all the time!" Sam spouted as Bucky made a 'there you go' gesture."Hey! Those guys are my friends – and now it sounds like they have extra heat on them because of me!"  Scott replied a little heated.

     "Well maybe they deserve it –"

     Wanda stepped in.  "Come on guys.  We were never going to get a place to stay from them.  We should have recognized that to Ross, they are as close to family as any of us besides Clint have.  It's just a little frustrating that they moved on them so quickly."

     "It shows that Ross is serious about hunting us down." Bucky added.

     Everyone looked at Sam as Scott softened.  "What are we gonna tell Cap?"

     Sam looked at the phone ringing in his hand.  "Well I guess we'll have to just give it to him straight."  "Hey Steve – " he said as he answered the call and walked to the window.

     "Hey Sam.  How's the house hunting going?"  Steve inquired.

     "Not so great." Sam replied and began filling him in on the situation.  
  
  


     Steve's face darkened as he listened to Sam.  The conversation was short, and he clicked off and sighed.

     Natasha read his expression before he even had a chance to speak. "They didn't find anything."  She remarked with her head down.

     "No.  They didn't, and worse it looks like Ross already has Scott's friends under surveillance."  Steve commented.

     Clint's head popped up.  "That was fast."

     "Yeah.  But it makes sense.  Those guys are like family to him and since they struck out with the Bartons, they were really the only other lead to follow." Steve pondered.

     "So what are you thinking?"  Natasha wondered.

     "I think they should stay where they are.  They are safe and neither Ross or Stark has any idea where they could be."  Clint offered before Steve could respond.

     Natasha smiled, "So we're going on a road trip."


	9. Chapter 9

     "So where exactly did Laura say they were?" Steve asked.

     Clint tossed his jacket over his shoulder as he closed the drawers in the kitchen, "Said they've kept a low profile at a shelter south of Manhattan... St. Francis, I think is the name."

     Steve closed a cabinet door and looked over his shoulder, "Shelter?" He asked, "Like, homeless-people kind of shelter?"

     Clint tilted his head, "Mm... not necessarily. It's more of a food-pantry than a homeless shelter. If I remember correctly, the purpose of St. Francis is to clothe, feed, and council poor families." Steve raised an eyebrow. Clint sighed, "So kind of a homeless shelter but not really."

     Steve exhaled and continued in helping Clint tidy up the mess they left in the kitchen. "Do you know how to get to this St. Francis place, by any chance?"

     Clint turned around and raised his brows, "GPS."

     Steve raised his hands over his head stepped back, almost apologetically. "Gotcha."

     Natasha, who had been folding the blankets back in the living room, straightened up and turned to face them with her hands on her hips. "So what's the plan? We go find them and do what from there?"

     Clint sighed, "Well... _the plan_ was to relocate them once we found them, but seeing as that train already left the station..."

     "If they're already in a different location; why all the effort to _re_ -locate them? I mean, Ross doesn't know where they are. This house was probably his first and only lead on them if Stark had any input." Steve suggested.

     "You're probably right..." Clint said bending over to pick up a fork he had dropped on the floor while digging through the drawers, "But there's one problem with that logic."

     "St. Francis is one of the most popular shelters on the Upper East Side. Regardless of whether or not Stark is involved, if Ross' men are planning on searching Manhattan then it should be one of the first places they inspect." Natasha explained.

     "Maybe not one of the first, considering it's outside of Manhattan. But they definitely will check there once they get to it." Clint joined. "We've got to find some other place to put them... any ideas?"

     The room was quiet. Looks were exchanged. Clint raised his hands, "Oh come on, nothing? Nobody has any ideas on where to relocate them to?"

     Natasha sensed his worry and paced over to his side, "It's okay. We'll figure something out on the way there. It's about, what – a two... three hour flight? That's plenty of time for us to brainstorm."

     "I hope so," Clint pulled away, "Because I'd hate to lose my family over something Stark and _the Accords_ started." With that, he opened the door and headed out to the jet.

     Natasha watched him storm out – she stood motionless in her spot. Her eyes wandered and her breath hitched with hurt and realization. _That's what this is about..._ she realized.

     Steve sensed her change in mood and he reached his arm out to rest his hand on her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, and instead of embracing him, she pulled away from his reach slowly and looked at him. Before Steve had a chance to speak, she calmly and slowly followed Clint's path out the door. Steve put his hands on his hips and exhaled as he watched her leave. He looked around the room; thinking. Then he turned off the lights and he too followed their path out of the house and closed the front door.

     Once he caught up to Natasha on the way to the jet, he opened his mouth to talk to her, to ask her what was wrong, but Clint was only a few feet away from them and he sensed that whatever was bothering her had something to do with him. So he kept quiet until they were on the jet and the drop closed.

     He looked at Natasha, who sat with her body hunched over and her hands intertwined in her lap. Her eyes read no emotion and you could only hear her breathing if you were really quiet.

     He was hesitant to approach her; considering the last time he tried, she rejected his comfort. But he took his chances and sat down in the seat next to her. They were in the back of the jet and Clint was at the front steering where they went, so if they whispered he wouldn't be able to hear them.

     Steve looked at her. "What's the matter?"

     She said nothing. He grew tired of waiting for a response he knew he was never going to get from her right now, so he stood up to sit somewhere else. As he did, Natasha whispered. "Clint's going to lose his family because of me."

     Steve turned around and looked at her with his brows furrowed, "What?" She didn't repeat it; and quite frankly, he didn't need her to. He looked at Clint in the pilot's seat, who couldn't hear them, and then he slowly sat back down next to Natasha. "What the hell do you mean 'because of you'?"

     Natasha turned her head and met his eyes. "At the house, he said to me that he'd hate to lose his family over what Stark and the Accords started–"

     "Right. What Stark and the Accords started – Tony was the one who helped Ross come up with the Accords; what's that got to do with you?"

     "Who signed the Accords?" She asked firmly; Steve paused. She continued, "Huh? Who signed the document that put Clint and his family at risk?" She sat back. "I did, Steve. I signed. I fought. I fought for what Ross wanted, and I didn't realize that what Ross wanted would make the Avengers and the people they love, targets. But now that I do – it makes everything so much painfully clearer."

     Steve sighed and lowered his head. He understood what she meant. Natasha watched him and waited for him to say something; waited for him to tell her she was wrong and this wasn't her fault. And once she came to the realization that he wasn't going to respond, she shook her head annoyed and looked away.

     "You know," Steve started quietly. Natasha didn't turn back. But he continued, "I'm not gonna hold anything against you."

     Then she furrowed her brows and looked at him with confused, but somewhat hopeful eyes.

     "And I know Clint won't either. I'm not gonna say it isn't your fault, because I know that's not what you want to hear." He explained. "You had to choose between two concepts you care very much about and you chose what you felt was right for you at the time. That's all you could do. It happens. You know... sometimes it works out; sometimes–"

     "It didn't."

     "No, it did not." Steve laughed. "But that's okay. And in the end, _you_ were the one who helped Buck and I escape that fight alive."

     Natasha gazed at him and then spoke, "Why are you letting me off the hook?"

     "Because you're here now. That's what's important." He softened.

     Natasha shook her head, "You wouldn't have done that with anybody else who signed. I know you."

     Steve nodded, "And I know you. That's why I'm letting it slide."

     Natasha looked down and sighed. "That's real sweet, Rogers, but to be perfectly honest – you don't know me. Not even close."

     He sat back; a little surprised by her words. "Maybe not as much as you'd like me to. But I know you from all the little things."

     "Oh yeah?" Natasha raised her brows, "Tell me."

     "Well," he started, "I know you from all the times that you act like it's no big deal when I don't know something that I might need to in the future... I know you take missions that no one else will take; the really dangerous ones, so that none of the other agents will get hurt,"

     Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes slightly. "I mean, whatever you want to hear."

     "I'm _serious_ , Natasha." He said firmly. "I know you run towards the fight while everyone else is running the other direction. I know you can outsmart anyone – even a computer program that was created by someone ' _slightly smarter_ ' than you." Natasha smiled and bit her lip.

      "I know you pulled Clint back after he'd been brainwashed in New York and stayed with him when no one else would–"

     "What are you saying, Steve?" her eyes twinkled; but she was afraid that this moment would be gone any second from now.

     "I've seen you carry kids out of burning buildings, I've seen you help innocent civilians escape gunfire, and I've seen you do things to protect other people even if costs you your life."

     "Steve, don't–"

     "I've seen you take a bullet for someone else... I've seen you take one for _me_." Their eyes met and Steve inched his fingers closer to her leg. He rested his hand on her knee. "I know you. I know who you are. That's why I'm holding nothing that happened with the Accords against you."

     Natasha was speechless – unsure of what she could possibly say in response to what he had just told her. _He does know me_ , she thought. _Whoa..._

     "... And your favorite color is red." He finished with a slight smirk; easing the tension.

     Natasha smiled, and then she pursed her lips. "It's actually blue."

     Steve looked at her and leaned back almost seemingly shocked, "I thought you said it was red."

     Natasha shook her head. "No it's- it's blue." She smiled at his funny efforts and in he returned the same smile.

     Without thinking, she leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He held his breath at first, but then he relaxed and slowly wrapped his arm around her waist.

     She sighed; still with her eyes closed. "What are we doing?" she asked softly – almost in regret that she understood her feelings so little that she had to ask.

     Steve exhaled and pressed the side of his head against hers that fit so perfectly on his shoulder. "That's up to you."

     She opened her eyes and looked at him – and they were silent the rest of the ride.

     As Steve opened his mouth to speak, the screen next to the control panel beeped – causing them both to turn their heads. Clint turned and looked at it.

     It read:

_INCOMING CALL from UNRECOGNIZED USER_  
_ACCEPT or DECLINE_

     Clint pressed the accept icon and who he saw on the screen shocked him. "Um... guys..."

     Steve stretched up to see over Natasha's head. "Yes?"

     "I think you're gonna want to come here."

     "What's wrong?" Natasha chirped.

     "Nothing's wrong... it's just, uh... we have a caller." Clint responded.

     Without hesitation, the both of them sprang up from their seats and walked over to join Clint at the pilot's seat. Steve expected it to be Laura or someone – or even Wanda or Bucky.

     But they all gathered around the screen to see Maria Hill.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hill?" Natasha said with shock and confusion.

Maria nodded pleasantly at her through the screen, "Agent Romanoff,"

Steve rested his elbows on the control panel and hunched over. He looked up at the screen, "How'd you manage to get through to us?"

Maria sat back in her seat and curled her lips, "You're SHIELD agents on a SHIELD jet – and I'm a SHIELD Deputy Director."

"I thought you were working for Stark now." Natasha spat.

"I'm multi-tasking."

"Director Hill, no offense but what do you want?" Clint asked; cutting the small talk.

She exhaled, "Actually, it isn't what I want – it's what one of your criminal-buddies wants."

"Criminal buddies? Who called you?" Steve lifted his head.

"I got a call from Sam a few hours ago–"

"You've got to be kidding me..." Steve mumbled.

" – He went on a rant about that Scott Lang guy – and then that guy ranted about him; said you guys needed help finding a safe house."

"Is that why we're talking?" Natasha asked.

"If you still need the extra help with your... 'House-hunting'; SHIELD can relieve you of some of that stress." Maria continued.

"SHILED can?" Clint repeated.

"I can."

Clint sat back. Before anybody had a chance to respond, Steve spoke up. "We can't ask you to do this. You've been a great help to us in the past, but I don't want to drag you into this one."

Maria cocked her brow and looked at him smug, "I wasn't asking your permission. Do you want a safe place for your family to stay or not?"

"How do you know it's for my family?" Clint questioned.

"Lang's a very chatty person." She explained. Natasha chuckled. That makes two of us.

There was silence. The three of them exchanged looks. Of course they wanted the safe house that Hill was offering them; what they didn't want was another person they cared for being put at risk of prosecution.

Yes, Maria had a record of being an extremely useful companion to them during times of distress – with the incidents in New York, D.C, and Sokovia. But this time, they were fugitives. It wasn't like Washington D.C when they were fugitives from SHIELD. In the end, everything turned out alright and there were no charges being help against them.

However, this time around with the Accords and the mess with Bucky – they were fugitives of the United Nations. They were offenders... criminals.

Hill had done everything she could to keep from being prosecuted after the fight in D.C after the fall of Hydra and the fall of SHIELD... she even got a job working for Stark considering even the best of the Intelligence Community couldn't compete with his army of lawyers.

Steve especially didn't want to ruin that for her. He'd already caused so many problems for so many people... he didn't want her to be one of them.

But of course, Clint had a different perspective. "Alright; we'll take it." Steve shot his head up and glared at him.

"Okay then. Let's get all of you and your family to safety." Maria responded victoriously.

"Wait, wait," Clint stopped her. "What do you mean 'all of us and my family'? We're not all staying together."

"Why is that?" She asked.

Clint grew angry. "Oh you know damn well why! Did you honestly think that I'd want my family staying in the same place as the rest of us when we're fugitives from the law!? There's a reason I kept it off of SHIELD's files!"

"I'm sorry, Clint. That's the best I can do. If you want to put your family in the warehouse all by themselves, that's fine. But Ross' men have already searched around that area and if you want to avoid another prison cell then I suggest you stay there too; all of you." Maria explained.

"You're not leaving me very many options, Hill!"

"That's not what I was called to do. My job was to find you a safe house. That's all I was told. So don't get all pissy with me for trying – it's not going to help your case."

Clint stood up from his seat furiously. Steve's eyes widened as the jet shook due to nobody controlling it and he leaped over to the panel. In a panic, he grabbed hold of the joystick and stopped them from an almost-crash. Natasha immediately rushed to his side and placed her hands on both of his shoulders from behind the seat. Then, she turned her head and once she felt Steve's heartbeat slow down and his breathing steadied, she let go and rushed to Clint. She reached out hesitantly and grabbed his shoulder; whipping him around to face her.

"What's the matter with you? What the hell was that?" She questioned venomously.

"She knew damn well that I wouldn't want them to stay in the same place as us. She knew, Nat–"

"That is not yours to decide. She's doing the best she can, Clint. What more do you want from her?"

"If you had a family; you'd understand." As soon as those words escaped his mouth, he knew he would regret them.

Natasha yanked her hand away from him and stepped back. Her jaw dropped. She clutched her hand into a slight fist and lowered it at her side. She couldn't believe that the man standing before her; the man who she had trusted with so much and kept from him so little, the man who she was closer to than anybody she'd ever met – could say what he said.

He saw the tears gather in the corners of her eyes, "I..." he stuttered, "I didn't mean it like that. I–"

"You said it exactly how you meant it." She hissed.

"Nat," he started.

"I may not have a family of my own blood but for as long as I can remember, you and your wife and your kids were the closest thing I had to one. But thank you, Clint, for reminding me that that's not the case and that I'm not a part of it. Thank you, for setting me straight." She choked. She turned around and stormed off.

"Nat wait!" He called out and ran after her. He grabbed her arms. She tried to yank away, but his grip was too strong and he turned her to face him. "Nat, I'm sorry! Honest to God I didn't mean what I said... not in that way. Please, just... just forgive me. Forget what just happened. Please."

She wiggled her hand out of his grip and wiped a tear away.

His words had taken her by surprise. But to be perfectly honest, she wasn't mad at him. She was just very badly hurt.

She wasn't going to "just forget" what happened, for now at least she knew where she stood with him. But he was still her best friend. Of course she would forgive him; but not quite excuse him.

"Of course I forgive you." She assured; rubbing her eyes. "And I'm not mad at you; really... I'm not. Maybe – hurt, I guess."

Clint exhaled. "I'm sorry, Nat."

"Yeah, yeah..." She rolled her eyes; wishing he would stop saying that. "But don't try and pretend that you didn't mean what you said."

"I'm not pretending! I didn't–"

"Clint, when I joined SHIELD, this was one of the first things you told me as a friend."

"And what was that?"

"To never forget what somebody says to you when they're angry."

"Why?"

"Because that's when the truth comes out." With that, she pulled away from him softly and walked to join Steve at the pilot's seat.

Clint lowered his head. Natasha was part of his family. The truth was that he honestly didn't mean anything he said – it was all just something he said out of stress. He hoped that she could understand that. At some point. Someday.

He jogged over to the panel and acted like nothing happened; although he knew Natasha would probably tell Steve everything later. But for now, he kept quiet. And he picked the conversation with Maria Hill back up right from where they left off.

"Okay. I'll let the rest of us stay with them in the warehouse." He started, "But only for a little while and on one condition."

"Tell me." Maria offered.

"If anything happens that involves Ross where we need to leave immediately – you get them to safety first; don't worry about the three of us. Laura and the kids are to be your top priority, are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Where's the place located, exactly?" He asked.

"Well, we figured you'd be shooting for remote, so–"

"Please don't say Greenland..." He mumbled.

"Greenland?" Maria squinted her eyes. "No. Waco. I meant remote as in opposite coasts on opposite sides of the nation."

"Waco? Texas?" Steve asked. She nodded.

"Are you sure we can make it all the way to Texas without being noticed?" Natasha asked.

"You made it here from the Pacific Ocean didn't you?" Maria predicted, "I think you'll do just fine."

"Can we have the directions?" Clint asked.

"I'll be sending over the coordinates once you end the call." She assured.

Steve raised his eyebrows, "Is that supposed to be a hint?"

"Possibly. You've got a long way to go and little time to waste. Be safe... Watch your six."

"Will-do." Natasha responded and Maria disappeared from the screen as it went black.

Natasha looked over at Clint, who had 'sorry' written all over his face. She knew he didn't mean anything he had said. She actually felt a little bad for reacting the way she did – but it was still his fault for mocking her infertility and she wasn't going to forget that. But never the less, she wasn't mad at him and even if she was, she couldn't stay that way for long.

"It's okay." She mouthed to him while Steve wasn't looking.

Clint looked down and sighed. Then his eyes shifted to Steve, who was clutching the joystick in his hands. "Hey man, sorry I jumped up from the stick earlier... but you're doing a pretty good job at steering." He patted him on he back.

"The second-to-last time I flew one of these, I crashed it in the middle of the Arctic." Steve said firmly and turned his head to look at Clint. "I'd take my place, if I were you."

Clint nodded and the two of them switched places.

A few minutes later, they approached the shelter where Clint's family was staying at.

"St. Francis..." Natasha observed, "They should be inside there."

"Well," Clint lowered the jet onto the ground in nearby field of tall trees, "Let's hope."


	11. Chapter 11

"Daddy!"

Steve and Natasha had stayed in the jet, whereas Clint had been waiting not-so-patiently for the woman at the front desk to get off the phone. The woman was still mid-call when the words 'daddy' caught his ear. He looked over his shoulder.

"Daddy!" A soft voice called once more.

That's when he saw her. A little girl in a yellow sundress and her hair braided in two – his little girl. She stood there, jittery and all, with her hands at her side and her heels bouncing up and down.

His eyes met hers – her big brown ones and oh, how they sparkled with avidity. He exhaled, " _Lila_..."

She beamed a smile, the same exact smile she had on every time Clint came home from a long day at work. She wiggled eagerly in her spot down the hallway, and she began to run towards him.

"Hey, pumpkin!" He laughed as she approached but as soon as she jumped into his arms, he was rendered speechless. This was his daughter – his only daughter. This was his baby girl – his princess; his everything she's supposed to be and more. And he hugged her tight as if he didn't intend to let go, which for the moment, he didn't.

"I missed you so much." he whispered and planted a soft kiss on the top of her tiny head.

"I missed you too..." She returned, and hugged him tighter before continuing sadly, "I didn't think you were coming back..."

Clint opened his eyes looked down at her as she rested her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her back, "I told you I would, you know."

"I know," She said quietly and looked up at him, "But you've lied before."

Clint held her gaze. "Never to _you_ , though. I can promise you that."

Lila nodded and leaned her head back on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Clint smiled softly, "You sleepy?"

"Mmhm," she yawned and rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

Clint placed his hand on the back of her head and whispered, "Well that's good... the ride will go by faster if you sleep on the jet."

She opened one eye, "Are we going home?"

He sighed and looked at her, "Not yet, sweetheart. But we will... soon."

"How soon?" She asked.

Clint rubbed his nose against hers and gave her an Eskimo kiss, "Very soon."

After a few short moments, he rubbed her back and asked her, "Hey... where's your mom and your brothers?"

Lila lifted her head up. "Mommy's back in the beds-room–"

"Beds-room?" He asked, confused. "You mean bedroom?"

"No, mommy and I call it the _beds-_ room - with an ' _S'_. It's the big room with lots of beds for the homeless people." She said.

He chuckled, "Okay?"

"Cooper and I were going to get water bottles, but I came out of the bathroom and he wasn't there like he said he would be." She explained.

"Oh..." Clint exhaled, "So _that's_ why you're in the lobby all by yourself."

Lila nodded, "I was looking for him. He probably went back to the beds-room."

Clint sat her down on her feet and patted her on the back, "Shall we go round them up?" He asked. She nodded, and he gave her a playful shove forward, "Alright! Let's go!"

They walked down the hallway, with Lila leading him to the 'beds-room' by forcefully tugging at his hand. "It's down here!" She pointed to the end of the hallway with her free hand.

When they got to the double-doors, Lila reached her arms out to open them and then she stopped frantically. She gasped and grabbed her father by the wrists, "Is Auntie Nat here?"

Clint looked down at her and laughed. I knew you'd ask that, he thought. "Hmm..." He pretended to be thinking, "... Maybe..."

Lila bounced her shoulders cheerfully and exhaled a childish ' _Yaayy_!' under her breath

"Yeah, yeah – c'mon, Lila – open the door." He laughed.

"Okay." She said happily and pulled open the doors. What Clint saw inside didn't shock him, but rather yanked him into reality. There were dozens of beds – hundreds, probably. And almost every single one of them was in use. _Dozens of people_ who didn't have homes surrounded him. The room was so busy it almost distracted him from what he was there to do in the first place.

     The people there were nicely clothed – for homeless people, at least – and none of them seemed unhealthy.

"St. Francis is doing a bang up job, aren't they?" Clint asked, practically forgetting that the person he was asking was only seven years old.

"Hm?" Lila asked, looking up at him.

Clint shook his head, "Never mind. Where's mommy and Cooper?"

Lila grabbed him by the hand again and dragged him down the middle isle, pointing towards the end of the row. "They're over here!"

He saw his son standing at the edge of one of the beds and saw the back of Laura's head. She was bent over, folding the quilt over the mattress and adjusting the pillows. Clint's heart flipped and his stomach churned. They were _all_ here.

Except for Nathaniel - where was he? Clint didn't see him anywhere, it didn't look like anybody was too concerned about his absence. Where was he?

"Lila... where's Nathaniel?" Clint asked.

"Nate? He's at Nana's house." Lila said.

"Well why are you all at Nana's too?" He asked.

"Mommy said for us not too. Something about how Nate wasn't born yet when Stark was here, so it was okay for him to go stay with them." She explained.

"Oh." Clint's face sank - "Wait, does Nana know that y'all were staying here? Does she know what's been happening?"

Lila laughed, "Definitely not." She brushed some fuzz off of her yellow dress and air-quoted, "She thinks we were going on a 'grown-up' vacation."

"And where would that be?" Clint teased, poking her sides.

"I don't know - it's not like we actually went on one!" She teased, causing Clint to laugh.

Cooper shifted his eyes and saw his father. His heart flipped as well. He tossed the pair of socks he had in his hand onto the end of the bed and ran over to meet him. "Dad!" He yelled.

"Ah, there you are!" Clint returned and extended his arms to hug him. "Hey, Coop."

"Hey dad," Cooper said softly in his embrace. "I didn't think you were coming back..." He cried.

Clint pulled away. "Hey, whoa! _Whoa_!" He wiped a tear from Cooper's face and rested his hands on top of his shoulders, "I promised I would, didn't I?"

Cooper nodded and pulled his dad back in for another tight hug.

"What are you doing, Coop?" Laura asked, still bent over fiddling with the blankets and pillows. When he didn't answer, she looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with her husband. She stood up straight and covered her mouth with her hand as her breathing hitched.

Clint broke away from Cooper and brushed past him slowly.

"You're _here_." Laura examined, still pacing slowly over towards him with her eyes watering.

Clint stopped in his tracks and sighed, "A promise is a promise."

Laura smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek. She nodded and jogged over to him; crashing into his arms and throwing hers around his neck in a warm embrace. He pressed a kiss to her temple and she whispered into his ear, "And _thank God_ you keep yours." Clint smiled at her words and tightened his grip around her.

"I love you," He said into her hair.

She closed her eyes and sighed against him, "I love _you_."

After what seemed like a hug that lasted for hours and hours – but had really only lasted a minute or two – Clint pulled back slightly, while still keeping an arm around Laura, and turned to face his two kids.

He chuckled, "Well now... don't just stand there." He made a waving gesture with his hands for them to come over, and when they did, he yanked them in for a group hug. And God, how he missed those.

"Alright, big guy," Laura joked, patting Clint on the shoulder and keeping her hand there afterwards, "Where do we go from here?"

After the group hug, Clint helped Laura and the kids pack their bags. Now, they were in the lobby waiting for their turn at the front desk to check out of the shelter.

Clint exhaled, "Texas."

Laura raised an eyebrow, "Texas?" Clint nodded and she crossed her arms with her jacket hanging over them. "That's quite a... quite an odd place for us to go, isn't it?"

"Well Maria Hill called us before we got here and apparently SHIELD's got a secret facility down in Waco – said we'd be safe there." Clint assured.

Laura sighed. "SHIELD's been good to us." She fiddled with the zipper on her jacket, "Accepting Maria's offer was a good idea."

"Yeah, well, let's hope." He adjusted his coat collar.

"It _was_." Laura assured.

"I'm just edgy with the idea of all four of us staying in one place... _plus_ Nat, and the other five." He admitted. "The last thing I want to do right now is put you and the kids at an even higher risk of getting hurt, and you know that."

"I do." Laura rubbed his arm, "But you _need_ to be with them, Clint. They need their father with them. You should've seen them before you came – they were scared, Clint... _terrified_ that you were never coming back no matter how many times I told them you were."

Clint looked down at his feet. Laura continued, "I know that your trust has been shaken. But I really need you to trust me when I say that it doesn't matter to them what happens along the way – they just _want to be with you_." Laura looked over at Lila and Cooper, who were sitting patiently in two chairs while they waited their turn in line, and smiled, "And _I know_ you want to be with them too."

Clint turned his head back to face Laura, grabbed the back of her head softly, and pulled her in for a kiss of the forehead. "I love you. And I just want you guys to be safe... that's all I want, Laura."

"I know," she whispered against his chest, "Just know that whatever happens... it'll be okay. _We'll_ be okay." Clint nodded and rubbed her back. He laced his fingers around hers and pulled her over to the kids. He sat Laura into the seat across from Lila and Cooper.

"Okay, kiddos. It's time for a little family meeting." Clint said, taking his place in the chair next to Laura. "We need to discuss what we do from here, and what happens in the event of an emergency."

"Okay." They nodded.

"So I've got a jet parked out front for us, and we're going to leave here and fly out to Waco–" He explained. "Still sleepy, Lila?"

Lila nodded and rubbed her eyes tiredly again. Clint smiled, "Alright – that's your opportunity to sleep."

Cooper tucked his knees to his chest and turned to his parents, "Why are we going to Waco?"

"Because that's the... safest... place for us to be at the moment." Laura assured.

He furrowed his brows, "I thought we were safe _here_."

"You are – you _were_. But we're almost at the point where we won't be totally safe here anymore." Clint explained.

"We're not gonna be totally safe anywhere, are we?" Cooper mumbled.

Clint lowered his head and sighed. "Just... trust me, Coop. I really need you to trust me, can you do that?"

Cooper nodded.

Clint stared, "Okay, so we fly to Waco. We stay there with the rest of the team–"

"With Auntie Nat?" Lila interrupted.

"Yes, Lila – that includes Nat." Clint assured. Lila smiled and he continued, "We stay there for as long as time will let us, and if anything happens somewhere in between – _you guys_ are covered. I made sure of that when I talked to Maria."

"Wait, what about you?" Laura asked as if hearing it for the first time, "What happens to you?"

He shrugged, "I fight the battle I need to fight."

"Then we'll fight it with you." She suggested, although, they both knew that it wasn't a request so much as it was a statement.

"No, Laura. That I've got to do on my own."

"You've been doing _everything_ on your own." She pointed out, "Clint... we're with you no matter what happens."

"I don't doubt it for a second." Clint explained her, "But Laura, I need you to promise me that you and the kids will follow whoever can get you to safety if it comes down to it."

"Only if you promise that _you'll_ follow." Laura pushed.

"I promise." He lied, only for the first time to his family. He would try to follow them to safety, but he knew that he was a goddamn fool for trying to guarantee it to them. So he sighed before adding,"As soon as it's over."

Laura sighed and sank back in her seat, "As soon as it's over." She agreed.

Clint looked over at Lila and Cooper. "Okee-dokee then... you guys ready to get outta here?"

The two of them nodded and Clint smiled, "Alright!" He grabbed Cooper's hands and helped him up out of his seat and then he turned to Lila, and he picked her up from underneath her arms and she wrapped herself around him. The line at the desk was clear, so they finally went up to check-out.

The woman behind the desk smiled. She was African-American, and she had beautiful jet-black hair with amber highlights. She wore a nice white long-sleeved blouse with a collar, dark jeans, and a silver necklace shaped like a crucifix. "How may I help you?" She asked.

"Hi, we'd like to check out." Laura answered.

"Okay – last name?" The woman asked nicely.

"Um, Barton."

" _Barton_? Okay..." The woman smiled and typed something on her computer and checked her notepad. She looked up for a split second to acknowledge the kids and caught a glimpse of Clint. Her eyes wandered back to him and she stopped typing. "Wait..." She said, examining him.

Clint gulped, "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Barton, you said your name was?" The woman asked.

"Last name, yes." Laura interrupted, trying to draw attention away from her husband, who had clearly caught the eye of the woman behind the desk.

The woman squinted her eyes, leaned over to the other side of her computer to look at something, and then she looked back at them. This time as she spoke, she held a newspaper up to her chest. "This isn't you, is it?" She asked, and pointed to Clint's face on the second page of the paper. "Are you _Clint_ Barton? You know, the ' _criminal_ ' Clint Barton?"

He gulped, suddenly at a loss for words, and he sighed. "Listen, ma'am. I'm in a really rough spot right now, and I'm just trying to get my family away from that. Can you please just–"

"Don't worry," The woman interrupted him, and leaned in slightly so that only they could hear what she's saying, "Your secret's safe with me." She whispered, and she winked at them.

Laura exhaled sharply, relieved. Clint lowered his eyes, and then he shifted them back onto the woman. "Thank you – thank you _so much_."

"No problem, doll." She teased, "But don't mention me if you get caught crawling around Manhattan."

Clint smiled, "Noted. Again, thank you so much."

The woman nodded and gestured towards the door. The four of them quickly hurried out the building and approached the field of trees.

"That's so _weird_..." Laura said as they walked across to the jet.

"What's so weird?" Clint asked.

"That that woman behind the desk let you off so easily!" Laura explained, speeding up her pace while still holding on tight to Lila's hand, "Anybody else would've gladly turned all of us in to Ross – I'm sure he's got some reward promised to whoever finds us before them."

"You're right, that _is_ weird." Clint agreed, although not totally listening considering they were in such a hurry to get to the jet. "Maybe it's just luck."

Laura mumbled, "Maybe it's _deceit_. She could call Ross on us any minute now."

"Then let's get our asses on the jet." Clint laughed.

"Get our what?" Lila asked.

"Oh nothing, pumpkin. I was just saying we should get on the jet." Clint covered. Laura gave him a look.

 


	12. Chapter 12

"So we don't have to look for safe houses anymore, is what I'm getting." Sam said.

While they were waiting in the jet, Steve and Natasha decided that it was a good time to video chat with the others back at their temporary home and fill them in on what's happened.

"Basically, yes." Steve nodded through the screen, "I'd say not to forget the ones you already found just in case, but seeing as though you found–"

"– _Nothing_. Yeah – I get it, Cap." Sam finished. Steve chuckled.

"No hard feelings though, buddy." Steve assured, "You guys did the best you could, so thank you."

"Yeah, well – always a pleasure to help." Sam said slightly sarcastically. "But hey man, how's Clint's family? Are they okay?"

Steve looked over at Natasha, who was sitting uncharacteristically close to him, and she pursed her lips, "Um... we don't know yet. He's still inside."

"It's sure taking him a long time, don't you think?" Sam asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Cut him some slack, Sam. It's his first time seeing his wife and his kids in ages." Steve warned him.

"I'm aware. And I'm happy for him – the guy seemed really shaken from what I've witnessed." Sam admitted.

"Yeah... now the challenge is gonna be keeping them _safe_." Natasha tucked her knees underneath her in a crisscross position and sighed.

Steve returned the sigh, "We'll figure something out." He said, nodding his head, "We always do."

Natasha perked her head up, "Hey – is there anybody else around?" she asked Sam, but was quickly given an answer by Scott popping his head up on the screen.

"Hi!" He said childishly, and Sam rolled his eyes.

Natasha chuckles slightly, " _Yikes_..." She mumbled.

"How is everything over there?" He asked, pulling up a chair next to Sam and causing him to exhale with frustration.

"Good, good... Hey though, sorry that – you know, that thing with your buddies didn't work out like you planned it would." Natasha apologized, Steve rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger and laughed.

"Nah, it's – it's all good. It seems like you guys got something worked out anyways, so." Scott nodded, pursing his lips.

"Yeah, we did." Natasha said.

"Hey, can one of you round up Buck and Wanda? I want to talk to everyone about the plan from here." Steve explained.

Sam shot Scott a nasty look, " _You_ can round them out." Scott didn't have the will or the energy to argue with Sam at the moment, so he just shook his head and hollered at them. "Be right back..." He shrugged.

As he walked away and Sam rolled his eyes forcefully, Natasha pushed the question that everyone was wondering, "What's your deal with Lang?"

Sam exhaled and rubbed his arms, "I don't know – the guy just gets on my nerves."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, and Steve chirped in, "Be nice, Sam. We really don't have time for anymore rivalries at this point."

Sam laughed, "It's not a rivalry. I just don't like him."

"Same difference." Natasha teased.

"No – not 'same difference'. There's a big difference, to be fair." Sam stated.

"Well – whatever keeps you from _killing_ the guy will do just fine." Steve said. Natasha smirked.

When Scott returned to the screen, Wanda and Bucky were following close behind him. Steve smiled and Natasha rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

"There they are," Steve grinned, "You guys holding up alright so far?"

Bucky nodded and Wanda gripped the end of Scott's chair with a faint smile, "Just fine, thanks. You?"

Natasha leaned forward, "Well, Clint's reuniting with his family at the moment and once they get back, we're gonna fly out to Waco where the safe house Maria found us is."

"Waco?" Wanda asked, confused.

"It's in Texas." Steve confirmed to her.

"Oh." Wanda furrowed her brows – she didn't exactly know where or what _that_ was either.

"So as soon as we get going, I'll call Maria and have her send over a chopper to come and get you guys so you can meet us at the place." Natasha explained, "It should be there in a few hours – probably towards the end of the day."

"Gotcha," Scott nodded.

"What do we do until then?" Bucky asked.

"Just..." Natasha started, "...Hang tight, I guess."

"Hang tight – got it." Scott said. Sam gave him a look that read nothing but _shut the hell up, man._

Natasha's phone buzzed in her back pocket and she jumped. Steve looked at her concerned and she laughed, "Sorry... _phone_." She pulled it from her jeans and wiggled it for him to see. She looked at the tiny screen and saw a message from Clint, it said:

 _Open backdrop??_


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh shit!" Sam yelled.

"What is it?" Wanda asked, springing up from her seat and pacing quickly over towards them. Sam extended his arm to hold her back from the window as she approached, and gave her a shove forward.

"Ross." He answered, "They found us."

Wanda's eyes widened, whereas Scott's nearly popped out of his head. "How!?" He exclaimed.

"I don't know," Sam picked up his jacket from the edge of his chair and threw it on. "But we gotta go – shut those lights off." He gestured to Bucky and the switch on the side of the kitchen wall. Without hesitation, Bucky sprinted over and forcefully turn off the light. The downstairs of the house, aside from the dim bulb in the back hallway, was now engulfed in an eerie darkness – darkness so strong, the four of them were tripping over their own feet.

Bucky stumbled over to them, "Go where?" He asked, confused as to where Sam planned for them to hide.

To his suspicion, Sam responded, "Haven't gotten that far – just go!" He urged, pushing everybody closer towards the back door, "Grab a jacket, but leave everything else! Go! Go! Go!"

Wanda reached up to grab her black cardigan sweater from the top of the coat rack and quickly slipped it on over her shoulders. She tossed Scott his jean shirt. Throwing it on over his white tee, Scott informed, "We need to get to the shed!"

Bucky shook his head and blocked Scott from leaving the back hall, "No!" Scott looked up at him and raised his eyebrows. Bucky pushed him back, "The shed's too far to the front – they'll see us before we even make it across the lawn."

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realized that Bucky was right. Actually, trying to get to the shed was most likely the worst thing they could do.

He pushed past Bucky to peek out the blinds. The men were getting closer, and Scott was beginning to panic. He paced back and forth trying to think of something, someplace they could hide safely in such a short amount of time.

Wanda, who was looking down at the floor, raised her head with sudden realization – "The trees..."

Bucky turned his head, "What?"

"The trees! Run for the trees!" She exclaimed and pointed her finger towards the door. She grabbed Scott's arm and tugged, urging him and the others to go with her.

Scott objected, "The trees are just as obvious as the shed!–"

" –But we can get to them faster! And they're at the back of the house, so we can at least get some distance between us and them before they start to look there." She explained, still pulling at the boys' arms.

Bucky tried to pull away, but her grip was too strong on his real arm. "Wanda, are you sure?"

This time, she whipped around to face him – annoyed. "If you happen to get any better ideas, let me know." She spat, backing up to grab the door handle and sprinting for the field of trees.

Scott, whom was still in the house with the other two, turned anxiously to Sam, "Sam?" He gestured to the open door – hoping that he would decide they shouldn't go.

Instead of Scott's desired response, Sam shrugged his shoulders, "You heard the woman!" He darted out the door, following Wanda's route and adding, "Go!"

Scott exhaled sharply, gave Bucky a look of worry, and took off running. He closed the door silently, trying hard not to make any loud noises, and then ran to catch up with them.

The field was a good couple meters away from the house – easy to reach before Ross' men noticed them, if they ran fast enough.

But as Scott looked back, he realized how much closer the men had gotten between the time they first saw them coming and now. They needed to pick up their pace, or it wouldn't be long before they were like fish caught on Ross' hook.

They ran as fast as their legs would carry them, but staying light on their feet had never exactly been easy and they tried desperately not to trip over or make any loud, heavy noises as their soles touched the ground. Their breathing was pretty steady and quiet – except for Wanda's, that is, because despite her excellent health and physical capabilities, she had never been able to find a way around her heavy panting.

She panted loudly as they ran through the trees and gasped for air the faster they went. Sam brought his pointer finger to his lips and gestured for her to be quiet. She covered her mouth with her hand and stopped in her tracks.

At her action, Sam slowed down and he too came to a stop, as did the other two, and he turned to her. She had her hands gripped tightly on her kneecaps and she hunched over, struggling to hold back the sudden urge to cough. Sam jogged over to meet her and he squatted slightly to see her face, resting his shaky hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, hey... shhh..." he whispered, rubbing her shoulder, "You good?"

She nodded as she wiped her mouth free from drool and sniffled. As Sam began to help her stand up straight, they heard a roar of footsteps pounding against the crunchy leaves on the forest floor. They saw a ripple of lights start to appear one by one and shine through the tree branches – Ross' men.

"Go." Sam whispered with alert and helped guide Wanda over towards a nearby boulder to hide behind. Bucky and Scott followed behind them and quickly took cover.

They still heard the cluster of footsteps, but it didn't appear as if they were getting closer. They all bit their lips to keep from breathing loudly as a light passed over the boulder. As hoped, they weren't seen – at least, not right at that moment. They thought, maybe if they waited longer, the men would pass by the area and head in a different direction.

Sam, who still had his hand over Wanda's mouth, lowered it in trust that she had gotten a hold on her volume and that the men had left. But as he did, Wanda exhaled a loud gasp. All three boys shot her a worried look and the light returned to the boulder. They held their breath and Wanda pursed her lips.

This time, the light moved slowly over the large rock. Nobody moved – nobody breathed. Then the light stopped where it was. Automatically, the four of them had assumed that the men saw something else in that direction and was stopping to double check themselves.

But instead, the light had stopped at the sight of Bucky's foot, which was poking slightly but visibly out to the side. He looked at it, realizing why the light was focused on that specific area, and regretfully, he pulled it in closer to his body in a swift movement.

Damn it! He thought.

It's not like they were focused on the men's voices, but Bucky swore he heard one of them utter to another, "I see them!"

The man in control of the large light sneered at the sight, and he moved his hand to his headpiece. On the other end, Ross was listening in – this was his way of communicating with his assigned men.

"We've got eyes on the targets." He said firmly, and gestured to the other men to immerge.

Ross, who was both thrilled and pissed, yelled angrily through the earpiece, "Well don't just stand there, imbeciles – shoot them!"

The other men moved their hands to their headsets, alarmed by their boss' sudden orders. The first man furrowed his brows and clarified, "But... sir... you gave us strict orders not to–"

"Do it! Shoot!" Ross demanded venomously.

The man gulped and ordered the others, "Shoot! Shoot!"

Chaos ensued.

Dozens upon dozens of bullets began firing from their guns. The four targets didn't waste a moment – they sprang to their feet and took off in a mad dash to escape the gunfire.

They skipped, ducked, and swerved from side to side to dodge the steel bullets that were rapidly being fired at them, and ran fast as they could to lose the armed troopers trailing not far behind them. Horrible, aggressive things were being yelled at them as they ran – things like "Traitors!" "Lowlifes!" "Criminals!" – As if they hadn't already heard it half a million times within the past week. The anger that dwelled inside them upon hearing those names made Bucky want to turn around and throw punches at every single one of Ross' men. But he kept running – as did the rest of them.

He ran, that is, until one of the trooper's silver bullets sliced through the air and pierced the skin and muscle of his thigh. He blared in pain as he tripped over himself; lurching to the ground and crashing into a nearby rock that was half buried into the ground's damp soil.

It happened so fast, but from his eyes it was seen in slow motion – slow contact, slow impact; slow fall. Everything flashed before him; not that he hadn't suffered the pain and shock of a bullet wound countless times before, but this time he couldn't walk – or at least that's what he figured as his leg smashed hard against the rock.

Wanda shrieked, "Bucky!!"

"Shit!" Sam yelled out of habit.

Bucky hissed, moaning in agony as he tried staggering to his feet. In fast motions, he propped himself onto the tips of his fingers and almost steadied himself on his uninjured leg, only to grasp his wounded leg in sharp jolts of pain and flail back onto the ground.

He gasped, shaking his head 'no' as Sam forced his arm out to reach him – "I can't walk! I can't walk!" He cried, "You have to leave me behind! I can't... I can't... I–"

Sam ignored his pleads, "Man, do you have any idea what Steve would do to us if we left you here!? – It's not gonna happen! C'mon!" He yanked at Bucky's arm and called for Scott, "Scott! Grab his other arm! Help him up!"

Scott sprinted to Bucky's side and wrapped his other arm around his shoulders and pulled, "It's alright, Mr. Barnes – we got you!" He was immediately embarrassed by his choice of words, but had no time to wallow in self-pity when Ross' men were just yards behind them.

Hastily but carefully, they helped Bucky to his feet and guided him. It was hard to run at their previous pace with Bucky's leg injury, not to mention they were still being fired at, but they managed to keep a steady jog through the trees. Unfortunately, at this disadvantage, the distance between them and Ross' men decreased drastically, and the four of them could almost hear their heavy breaths behind them. In a matter of minutes, they would be able to feel them as well.

Scott turned his head back to see the men and his heart dropped – they were so close; too close for comfort. "Guys..." He warned, "They're gaining on us!"

Bucky wouldn't let it go, "I'm slowing you guys down!" He claimed – which he was, but the only thing they could do about it was the only thing they wouldn't. "You have to leave me!"

"I already told you, man!" Sam retorted in between breaths, "It's not happening!"

Wanda had had enough. She slowed down where she was in front of the other three, whipped around, and began running in the opposite direction – towards Ross' men.

She planted herself like a wall; a barrier, between the men and the others. Sam slowed down their steps and he screamed at Wanda, terrified of what the hell she was planning to do. "Wanda!" He yelled, "What are you doing!?"

She didn't look back to acknowledge him. Instead, she twirled her hands in a circular motion, slowly curling and lengthening every finger, brewing a thick glowing red ball of energy. Her hands twisted and turned, and the more so they did, the larger the energy within them unraveled. Still completely focused on her doings, she hollered to Sam, "You guys go on! I'll hold them off."

Sam raised his brows with anger and concern, to the point where he almost released his grip on Bucky, and he roared, "Are you insane!?"

Wanda's bottom lip quivered and she bit down hard on it out of a mixture of emotions such as fear, determination... worry – etc. Still fixated on the projection of energy she was creating, she urged Sam and the others, "Go! Get as far from here as you can! I'll catch up!" She didn't need to look back to know that they weren't budging, so she whipped her head to look at them firmly and she ordered, "GO!"

Reluctantly, they forced themselves away and took off, but they refused to break eye sight of Wanda as she turned back around to face Ross' men, who were rapidly approaching her.

She watched the men come at her – quickly, feverishly. She knew right then how this would end for her. At that point she admitted to herself, this is where I go. But the closer they got, she remembered what she had said to Clint back at the Compound when she tried to control Vision. Her words echoed in her head, I can't control their fear... only my own – and then they rolled off her tongue with fury, "I can't control their fear... only my own!" It was not as if she were saying it to Ross' men, but she was saying it to herself – reminding herself that they would only destroy her if she let them... and she was not going to let them do so.

Then it truly began. They were feet away from her – almost all of their guns had ran out of bullets to fire. And with the flick of her wrist, she sent that ball of energy surging towards them at high speed – taking out a good five or six of the men at the front.

She continued this – manipulating the energy and using it to her advantage – exposing it to the troopers so aggressively, yet effortlessly, and radiating a power so mighty that she almost felt safe. Well, not safe – but not in danger – it was something she couldn't describe; only feel. And it raged through her blood and her veins. As the number of men firing at her decreased, it was as if a shield had been created and set around that small sliver of hope left within her – like the shell of a precious seed.

Then, in the blink of an eye and the sound of a trigger being pulled, it was all snatched away from her. She didn't have time to sense it and react before she was being tangled in a harsh, ragged net. The energy almost disappeared, as did that sliver of hope.

She flailed her arms viciously, trashing at the large net she was trapped under – trying to escape. But she couldn't. It was so heavy, and it pressed her so far against the ground that she couldn't even sit up straight without straining a muscle. She screamed; struggled, "Let me go!" As she tried to break free.

Then she felt a sharp, aching pain in the center of her back. She yelped and moved her hands quickly to grasp the hurting spot, and found her fingers wrapped around something plastic – something that felt much like one of those big needles at the doctor. She hissed and trailed her hands carefully up the needle and felt something fluffy.

No... she thought. She turned her head back to get a decent look at it while still trapped inside the net, and just as she worried, she had been shot with a tranquilizer dart. No! God, no!!

A chill traveled down her spine. It was less than a matter of seconds before her eyes and the sounds of the men around her blurred from her senses. She struggled to keep her eyes open and focus them on something – anything. But they didn't. And she felt her body give into the serum the second it spread through her bloodstream.

She dropped seemingly motionless to the side, and everything around her went black.

Bucky, Sam, and Scott had watched from afar; saw the entire thing from middle to end – wishing so desperately that Wanda had let them help. But she didn't, and now she was unconscious underneath a black net with Ross' men surrounding her.

Bucky lost it, "NO!!!–" but his wails were interrupted by Sam as he lunged at him; wrapping one hand around his head almost like a chokehold, and clasping his other hand tight over Bucky's mouth. Bucky moaned and cried through Sam's fingers, and Sam tightened his grip in worry and urged him to hush before they were caught a second time.

The three of them raised their heads above the large broken tree trunk that they had taken cover behind away from Ross' men. They watched in fear as Wanda was slowly scooped up and thrown over one of the men's shoulders; knowing full well that that was their fault for leaving her behind and there was nothing that they could do right then and there about it.

Sam wanted to act upon it. He wanted to bash Ross and his men with his fist and get Wanda back – save her. But it was like he was living through one of those horrible nightmares where you can't speak or move; only watch, so you just stand there like a deer caught in the headlights until you finally wake up. Only this wasn't a dream... and he wasn't waking up.

Scott trembled as he watched them carry Wanda's motionless body off, and he mumbled in panic the whole time, "Oh my God... oh my God... oh my God... no...."

And with that, Wanda and the men disappeared from their sight. 

 

The man who had Wanda swung over the side of his shoulder tapped his earpiece and began to talk, "We've got Maximoff," He said to Ross through the device – raising his brow at the sight of her fragile body dangling from his shoulder and rolling his eyes in annoyance. The idea of enhanced beings disgusted him, let alone the sight of them. Not to mention the fact that the one he was carrying happened to be one of the world's biggest weapons of mass destruction. He looked away and continued talking into the earpiece, "We'll get her back to the helicopter and proceed looking for the others as planned–"

"Don't." Ross cut the man off.

The man stopped walking and brought his hand to his headset, once again confused by Ross' orders. "Sir?"

Ross sighed from the other end in an irritated manor. He impatiently explained, "We have Maximoff – that's an automatic advantage. At some point they'll come for her, and when they do..."

"When they do?" The man repeated in question.

Ross took a moment of pause before he finished, feeling so sly and victorious at his men's accomplishment... "We'll be ready."


	14. Chapter 14

Nobody slept that night.

Wanda was captured, probably somewhere being tortured by Ross' men, and they had watched it happen. Bucky's leg wound had gotten worse and was probably infected by now. The stream that they sat a few yards from was loud and difficult to tune out. None of them felt safe enough to close their eyes in fear that when they opened again, Ross' men would be in front of them – behind them – all around them. On top of that, they had to stay awake waiting for the chopper Steve was sending to get them. So of course, they _couldn't_ sleep. Sleep wasn't even part of the picture anymore.

By the time it was a quarter till dawn, all of them had silently, probably without realizing it, had given up any hope that the chopper was coming. They sat in a lousy circle in front of the cluster of boulders and broken trees, dazed and groggy as they waited. Waited. Nothing. Hours had passed since Ross' attack on the four of them – and now here they were – a group of three instead of four, waiting.

Their eyes were emotionless – bloodshot, and were underlined with horrid droopy bags that screamed 'I need rest.' Their foreheads were creased with worry lines so harsh that it didn't look like they were ever going to disappear. Nobody had said a word in the hours that they had been sitting there – nobody had even made eye contact.

Easily, Bucky was in the worse condition out of all of them. There was a small pool of red in the leaves and the soil he sat on top of, and his left hand was stained with dry blood. His balled up grey leather jacket reeked of must and sweat from being pressed against his bullet wound. The rough material stung against his leg, so throughout the night he had tossed it aside. He was _never_ wearing that thing again.

He pinched the fabric of his sleeve and tore it off of his shirt. It was the first time any of them had moved since Wanda's capturing. He stretched out the grey piece of cloth and began wrapping it around his injured thigh. He could see clearly, and he didn't feel any sort of dizziness – but he was sure he had lost a lot of blood during the night.

Sam's eyes wandered to Bucky's leg as he watched him wrap the sleeve of his shirt around it. Finally, he asked, "How's your leg?"

Bucky stopped mid action, but he didn't look up to answer Sam's question. He merely shook his head dismissively, responded weakly, "It'll get better," and tied off the two ends of his sleeve around his thigh.

There was silence.

Suddenly feeling the undeniable urge to ask, Bucky looked up and spoke hopelessly, "It's dawn. When did Steve say the chopper would be here?"

Sam sighed and shifted against the boulder to straighten up, letting a moan slip between his lips as he did. "Yesterday they said it would be here in a few hours... but we passed that a long time ago so I don't know what to tell you – but they'll come. They always do."

"No, I know." Bucky nodded.

Again – _silence_.

Sam added, "I hope they come soon though, because–"

Scott interrupted furiously, "Are we just gonna sit here and pretend nothing happened last night? Are we seriously gonna avoid talking about it?"

"What do you want us to say?" Sam argued with the same fury.

"Maybe you could at least try to think of some ways to get her back!"

"You don't think I have? Just because I haven't shared it out loud doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking about it!" Sam shook his head before adding sharply, "And why do you always expect me to solve the problem? I'm not a magician!"

Scott narrowed his eyes, "Well I just figured you'd prefer it that way – it's not like you ever let me try to fix things."

"Because you screw everything up!" Sam retorted.

"I do not – name one thing I've screwed up."

"Oh gosh... you know, that's a hard task – give me a second to think about it. Um... well, you _completely_ screwed up our chances at finding a safe house!"

"That was not my fault."

" _Your_ friends, _your_ idea – _your_ fault!"

Scott nodded, "So maybe I did blow our first – not our only – chance at finding a safe house. But other than that, I think it's safe to say that I've done nothing wrong!"

"Maybe. But if you hadn't messed up the first time, we probably wouldn't be here now." Sam looked away, annoyed.

Scott sat back and raised his eyebrows in shock, "Excuse me?" Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Scott's blood boiled as he spat, "You can't blame this whole shit-fest on me!"

Sam turned back to face him and he eased, "I'm just saying, maybe we would've been out of here sooner and Wanda wouldn't currently be captured."

Bucky closed his eyes shut and leaned his head back, praying that the two of them would stop arguing. But of course, they didn't. Scott flared his nostrils and flexed his jaw, "No you know what? You're absolutely right – _yeah_ , this whole thing–" He flailed his hands around, gesturing to their surroundings, "–Is my fault and my fault only. _Thank you,_ Sam."

Bucky finally interrupted, "Come on, guys – now isn't the time to point fingers... Scott's right, we have to save Wanda."

Sam crossed his arms and looked at him, "How?" He asked.

"I don't know." Bucky shook his head sadly, "I wish I did... So let's start thinking. Maybe we can come up with something while we wait for the chopper to get here."

Sam looked at the ground and raised his eyebrows, "You know Steve isn't gonna be happy when he finds out."

Bucky nodded, "Trust me – that's a good thing."

They heard the sounds of propellers swooshing through the air. Immediately, Sam thought it was the copper that had been sent on behalf of SHIELD to get the three of them. But as the sounds got closer, he worried – was it SHIELD's? Or did it belong to Ross. His eyes grew and he began to freak.

Shifting onto his knees, Scott offered, "Okay, so maybe we could–"

"Shhhh." Sam warned with his attention towards the sky.

Scott glared at him unbelievably – he assumed that Sam didn't want to hear his ideas and lost his control. "Are you serious!? This is what I'm talking about, Sam. You never let me–"

Sam leaped to Scott's side on the ground and covered his mouth, "Shhhh!" He turned his attention back to the sky, removed his hand from Scott's mouth, and pointed; unsure of which direction the sound was coming form. Carefully, they listened. The sound of the chopper grew closer and they all shared a tense looked.

"What is that?" Bucky whispered, following Sam's gaze towards the sky above them. "Is that Steve?"

"I don't know." Sam said quietly. That's when Bucky realized what he meant. Carefully and quietly, Sam and Scott raised themselves onto their feet and rushed over to help Bucky up off of the grown. Though they were surrounded by large boulders and tree trunks, they chose to sit in plain sight – which now seemed like a terrible idea. They hurried over to one of the oddly shaped trunks, trying cautiously not trip over themselves, and they slid across the leaves onto the ground to hide. They heard the propellers of the chopper land just feet away from them and felt the gush of wind blow the leaves downward towards them. Nobody moved, nobody said a word.

They heard the door of the chopper open, a pair of feet land against the rocky ground, and the same door shut loudly. A couple steps were taken by the person who stepped out of the chopper and they all tensed. They were so quiet, it was almost as if you could hear one another's heartbeats if you listened close enough.

They heard a soft sigh, a throat clear, and a female voice boom in the silence, "Alright – you guys can come out from behind the tree trunk now."

Sam squinted his eyes and furrowed his brows... he recognized that voice. Hesitantly, he poked his head out from behind the broken tree and laid his eyes upon a familiar blonde in dark blue jeans and a black vest covering her grey shirt. "Sharon?"

Following Sam's lead, Bucky too raised his head above the trunk; certain he'd heard the name before, and chuckled, "Sharon!"

Lastly, Scott popped his head up as well. "Who's Sharon?" He asked confused.

Bucky nudged him, "Steve's girlfriend."

"Huh." Scott furrowed his brows, _I'd always thought he had a thing with Natasha..._

"With all due respect," Sharon stuttered, "I'm not his... it's not, uh, he's not – _we're_ not dating."

"Huh." Bucky furrowed his brows, _Good._

Scott nodded, "'Not Steve's Girlfriend'," He extended his arms and gave her two thumbs up, "Got it."

Sharon smiled uncomfortably and brushed a strand of her blonde hair out of her face. She and Steve's dynamic was a complicated thing – surely everyone they worked with knew that. She had always admired him and everything he had accomplished as an Avenger and even before that, especially considering she had a hand-in-telling from Peggy, but she had never really looked at him as a potential love interest. It was more of a 'male role model' type of interest – which had always made sense in her eyes why he and Peggy found love in one another during the war. The kiss between herself and Steve almost felt wrong due to her knowledge of her aunt's past relationship with him. So the question of whether or not Steve was her boyfriend was funny to her – not that the concept wasn't desirable, but she knew it was wouldn't be right nevertheless.

Sam let his hands dangle loosely at his sides, "What are you doing here?"

Sharon turned to him, "I'm with SHIELD," she explained, "Or what's left of it. They sent me with the pilot to come get you – figured it might be easier if you had a familiar face as your escort."

"Who's 'we'?" Bucky asked.

"Maria Hill, the Bartons, Nat, and my 'Not-Boyfriend'." Sharon answered, raising her brows at the last one. She crossed her arms and straightened up, slightly more tense than when she arrived. And it was only a matter of seconds before Scott began pestering her with accusations.

"How do we know you're not lying and that you're not actually here on behalf of Ross?" He questioned, tilting his head towards her for emphasis.

Sam almost laughed, "At ease, Tic-Tac." He stepped closer to Sharon, crossing his arms, and asked softly and concernedly, "I gotta know... Are the others; everybody back at the SHIELD safe house, I mean... Are they okay?"

Sharon met his eyes and saw how worried he looked. She sighed and said truthfully, "Everybody's fine right now... Steve's tense – he was worried something bad was gonna happen while he was gone."

Sam swallowed hard, and almost on cue, Bucky raised his voice from the ground as he clutched his arms over the width of the broken tree he was behind. "Can I get some help?"

Sharon shifted her eyes onto Bucky, narrowed them, and then shifted them back to Sam and raised her eyebrows. Without an explanation, Sam sighed and paced over to Bucky's side, as did Scott, and they tugged at his arms. As he stumbled to his feet in their grasp, he flashed his leg and caught Sharon's eye. Her mouth dropped at the sight of his bloodstained wrapping around the wound and her eyes widened.

She rushed towards them and turned to Sam. Raising her voice, she wined, "They were gone for _one_ day! What happened?"

Hardly acknowledging her, Sam grunted, "Ross happened."

Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upwards in an arch, "He found you?"

"His men did," Scott explained, "And they did this."

Sharon placed her hand on her hip and rubbed her forehead with her free hand, unsure of how to respond or how to explain what happened to Steve – who she had assured many times over that nothing bad could've possibly happened in the day and a half that they were gone. She shook her head, "How long has he been bleeding like that?"

"A while," Sam answered, "There was nothing we could do except wait for the chopper to get here." He gestured towards the running helicopter behind Sharon. She looked back at it quickly and sighed.

"I don't suppose you have any cotton gauze with you...?" Bucky asked innocently.

"We'll manage." She promised. Frantically, she made head gestures and urged them, "Come on – get him on the chopper. I'll call in Maria and let her know to get the medical team ready at the facility." She helped them guide Bucky towards and onto the chopper, looking around to make sure that nobody was around as she led him on.

Sam patted her shoulder as he passed her, "Thank you." And he meant it. She nodded softly and stepped off to look at their surroundings with her hands in her pockets. She scanned the area with her eyes, making sure one last time that they were completely alone and that none of Ross' men were watching them, and for the first time since she landed here, she relaxed.

Then she realized something that should've caught her attention before, but hadn't until just now. _Didn't they say there were four of them?..._ She thought. Her eyes lowered to look at her feet and she thought again, _No, maybe they said three._

She swiveled around to face the chopper and she leaned against the entry way, counting the faces she saw inside – Sam; _one_ , Bucky; _two_ , and Scott; _three... did they say three?_

She paused; her thoughts going crazy as she retraced her steps in her head to the conversation she had with Maria before she left. She tried to recall her exact words... _'We_ _need you to go with the rescue team to pick up the others from their ex-safe-house. The pilot knows where they are – you're just going along for the ride as a friend. Sam, Scott Lang, Barnes, and Wanda Maximoff – make sure all four of them are brought back safely.'_

_Wanda..._ she thought. Her face dropped. _She's not on the chopper, I don't think... I'll recount._ She poked her head in again and counted three again, aside from the rescue team. She shook her head in confusion and called for Sam, "Sam?"

He looked up at her, getting up from his seat onboard and walking hesitantly to her side as if he already knew what she was gonna ask. "Yeah?"

She leaned in closer and whispered firmly, "Where's Wanda?"

He hesitated, and his breathing hitched softly. Swallowing hard, he sighed and explained guiltily, "She tried holding off Ross' men after Bucky was shot... she wanted us to get a head start, and..."

"And what, Sam?" She asked worried.

He gulped and looked away, forcing the words, "They got her."

She sank back in disbelief. Her eyes wandered around the area and found their way back onto Sam's guilty expression. She exhaled shakily and mumbled, "Jesus Christ..."

As the slow hours passed, they found themselves landing outside of the facility where Steve and the others were. They approached the dark double doors with two SHILED agents from the Rescue Team armed behind them and another agent alongside Sharon in front of them. Sharon had said that the extra agents were armed for their protection – which made them feel a little easier about the fact that they had practically formed a human shield around them.

As they walked, Sam's chest tightened and his expression twisted. In a few moments he would have to explain to Steve why Bucky had a hole in his leg and worse; why Wanda was not with them. The thought of the look he would witness on Steve's face made his stomach churn. What would he say? Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be good.

The doors to the facility opened and the walked in with Bucky limping in Scott and Sam's arms. The bleeding had stopped during the flight over, but the pressure of walking for the first time in hours sent little droplets of red down Bucky's leg and he had to fight the urge to keep the sharp pain from showing in his expression.

Across the large room; Steve, Natasha, Clint, and the rest of the Barton family sat at a table gathered around a computer screen. Each one of them looked up as they walked through the doors, and all but Laura and the kids rushed over to greet them.

"There they are!" Clint teased as he approached, pointing to an imaginary watch around his wrist, "It's about time." Not yet had he, or anybody for that matter, noticed Bucky's wound.

Steve half smiled at them as he followed behind Clint and Natasha, as if for the first time since they had been separated he was relaxed. _That won't last long,_ Sam thought, but covered it up with a smile.

Before really acknowledging them, Steve turned to Sharon, "Thank you."

Sharon smiled and shook her head, "No, thank you. If you hadn't called, the next place you'd probably find me is behind bars."

Steve lowered his eyes and nodded. _What are friends for?_ He wanted to add, but he figured it might've been best to keep that to himself.

There was a small but surprising moment of silence. Sam's eyes wandered around, hoping that the damage would go by unnoticed for a few more minutes. But of course, being the expert at reading emotions that Natasha was, she sensed the dead air between him and the others and saw the subtle hints of worry in his eyes. She furrowed her brows and asked genuinely, "What's wrong?"

Sam shot her a look that was a mixture of anger and guilt. At her words, Steve turned his attention to him and picked up on the same feel as Natasha. He looked Sam up and down; his eyes stopping at his feet, and then they shifted over to Bucky. Only now did he notice that he was being held up straight by Sam and Scott. As his eyes traveled upwards, he finally noticed the large bullet wound in Bucky's leg. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened, "Good God, Buck! What the hell happened!?"

Sam gulped, feeling as though he were the one that had to explain. But Sharon sensed his nervousness and spoke up before he was given the chance. "Ross' men found them and attacked; shot Barnes in the leg and captured Wanda too."

Steve's jaw dropped and his expression turned cold, he retorted, " _Captured Wanda!?_ How'd that happen?"

"She was holding the men off while the two of us carried him away from the shooting," Scott explained, gesturing to himself and Sam and then gesturing to Bucky. "They trapped her some sort of net and tranquilized her."

"And you guys didn't go back for her?" Natasha questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Even if we did," Bucky protested hoarsely, "The result wouldn't have differed in the right way. It would've just meant that all of us got captured."

Steve shook his head in disbelief and clamped his hands on top of his scalp. He paced around in a tiny circle and exhaled, "God... Well we have to get her back." Natasha nodded and began lightly chewing on the nail of her pointer-finger. Here we go again... she thought.

"I agree," Bucky shared seriously, but it was followed by a raspy chuckle, "But can I please get my leg fixed up before we kick Ross' ass?" 

"Do you have any idea where they might have taken her?" Steve asked the entire table, but the question was more directed towards Sam, Bucky, and Scott.

Bucky had spent a few hours with the medical team and they had stitched up his leg and stopped the bleeding. Now, he sat with the rest of the group in a small room with a circular table with his leg propped up on a separate chair as they talked amongst themselves about the situation. Staring off, he said convinced, "It's _got_ to be the stupid floating prison in the middle of the pacific."

Natasha rested her arms from her elbows down to her hands; which were laced together, on her space at the table. "Okay... Let's say she is there." She suggested, "Let's say... she's in a completely different cell – if she's even alive –and the security is upped; let's say it's doubled – _tripled_."

The eyes of everyone at the table were lowered in the realization of what she meant. She continued, "There's no way we're getting through a second time – not on Ross' watch... at least not the same way as before."

"What are you saying?" Sam questioned.

" _I'm saying_ we need to look for the loophole – there always is one." She explained, nodding her head.

"Okay; so we look for the loophole." Steve agreed and his eyes traveled around the table, "Any ideas as to what that would be?"

"If Ross really wants to keep us out, then like you said – security is what we need to watch out for; specifically that of the main entrances." Clint added.

Maria shook her head, "Why? You say Ross wants to keep you out, but why? It's not like he can guarantee that all of you will just show up accordingly."

There was silence. Wheels were turning – everyone was thinking. Maria was right – why exactly would Ross want to keep them out?

Then Natasha had a thought. She looked up and turned to Scott, Sam, and Bucky – who were sitting across from her in that order. She asked, although she already had an answer, "Why did Ross' men leave after capturing Wanda when they still had you three left to pick off? I mean, they knew Bucky was injured and that you couldn't get too far because of it – why did they just leave?"

They all opened their mouths to speak, but nothing came out. None of them knew the answer, but they figured that they didn't need to because of a feeling that Natasha already knew – which of course, she did.

But Steve was the one who answered. He sat back in his seat and exhaled, "Because Wanda is their guarantee."

"Right." Natasha turned her head to face Steve as she continued, "Because they know that having Wanda captured is an automatic advantage on their part."

Steve leaned forward and spoke with more understanding now that he was picking up on Natasha's interpretation, "It guarantees that not only would Ross get what he wants – which is all of us behind bars – but that he wouldn't have to do anything else, really, to achieve that because–"

"–We would do it for him." Bucky joined.

"We would come to him." Natasha continued, "He wouldn't have to send his men looking for us. So not only was capturing Wanda an advantage–"

"It was an invitation. He's inviting us in." Sam looked to Natasha for approval. And she nodded.

"Right."

Clint cleared his throat and exchanged looks with everyone at the table. "So do we accept it? Or do we do what we normally would and do the exact opposite?"

"We stop and think." Steve suggested, scratching the back of his neck. "Ross is expecting our RSVP to be loud and obvious – he thinks we'll show up in our uniforms begging for a fight."

"But what if we didn't? What if we took a different path?" Natasha questioned. She leaned in closer to the table and spoke in the tone of a woman with a plan – a good one too. "What if... we got them to come to us? Just like normal."

"They won't." Sam objected.

"Yes – they will."

Puzzled looks were shared from the members opposite of Natasha, except for Steve – who sat right next to her and as if he could read her mind; had a look on his face that screamed ' _I know exactly what your plan is'._ And she didn't doubt that he did for a second.

As the others slowly turned their attention back to her, as if waiting for an explanation to go along with her claim – she smirked and pressed forward with her idea. "Like you said: Ross wants us to come to him, one way or another. But even if we didn't and his trap fails, we don't have very many options as to what we do instead – so he probably expects that we'd keep a low profile. What he isn't expecting is for us to make a scene."

Sam sighed, "I still don't see how making a scene guarantees that he'd come to us."

"Because that's his job." Steve reminded them, "That's what the government and the public expects him to do. If he knows where we are, his job is to come for us immediately and put an end to this whole thing."

"So maybe he wants us to go to him – but if something big and loud were to happen; say..." Natasha hinted, "We cause a ruckus in the city..."

"He's still obliged to do something..."

"Like send in his men..." Sam figured, finally coming to an understanding of the plan.

Natasha blinked.

Scott pursed his lips and for the first time since they had sat down at the table, he spoke, "So what does that mean for us?"

Natasha glanced at Steve and sat back, gesturing towards him with the palm of her hands as if it was her way of giving him permission to take over. He grinned at the gesture and straightened up to face the others.

He nodded his head, with slight indication of pride behind his voice, and he confirmed what everyone was thinking. "It means we've found our loophole."


	15. Chapter 15

It appeared that Steve and Natasha already had a "game-plan" in the works. Now it was in the hands of them and the rest of the team, including Maria Hill and other rogue members of SHIELD, to piece it together.

Steve stood leaned forward at the table with his upper body weight pressed into the palms of his hands; tapping the end of his pen against the metal table with his pinky. There was a large, blank sheet of white paper rolled out in front of him. Natasha stood next to him with her arms crossed, looking over at the paper. Across from them sat Bucky, Sam, & Scott – and Clint stood against the wall beside them.

Steve clicked his pen and looked at Bucky, wanting to engage him in the conversation. "Buck, do you remember the uniforms Ross' men were wearing when they attacked you?"

Bucky lowered his eyes and shook his head, "It was dark outside... everything looked black to me, but I don't know."

Steve lowered his head loosely and sighed, gave a soft sigh in Bucky's direction, and then turned to Sam. "Alright... Sam? Can you do better than that?"

"Like he said," Sam exhaled, tapping his foot up and down against the floor, "It was dark and we were running away from them – not towards them. Sorry, Steve."

"I remember from the prison." Scott confessed, knowing that he would be the next person Steve would ask. "When they locked us up they were wearing jumpsuits – like military uniforms minus the camo crap."

"Do you remember the color?"

"They were a dark navy blue – might've been black, but I don't think so."

Steve chewed on his lower lip, "Okay, so deep navy blue military uniforms?" They nodded. Natasha eyed him.

"Hats or no hats?" She asked.

" _Helmets_. Black helmets. _That_ I remember." Sam assured.

"Alright... Maria – do you think SHIELD could hook us up with some navy blue hats and jumpsuits?" Natasha asked, transitioning over to the other side of Steve so she could better see Maria.

Maria nodded and brought her hand to her earpiece. Natasha predicted that she had some SHIELD official on the other line. Maria began to walk off, "Yeah, hi – could you do me a big favor and send over some military suits to our Waco facility?... Navy blue... with black helmets & goggles..."

Steve waited until she had left the room before looking back down at the white paper to write something and continuing the conversation, "Alright, so we've got those on the way." Natasha leaned over and saw him scribble down the words, _'_ ** _Disguise..._** ✔️ _'_

"What's the plan?" Bucky asked.

Steve, too deep in thought to answer, nudged Natasha as if telling _her_ to answer the question instead. Simply, she said, "We get Ross to come to us, as per usual."

"By...?" Scott raised his eyebrows, as if her answer wasn't good enough (which to be fair, it really wasn't).

She scratched the top of her cupids-bow and pressed forward with her explanation. She looked at Scott. "You, me, and Clint will go into the city and make a scene, drawing in Ross' men and letting them capture us."

"Define 'make a scene'," Sam questioned.

Natasha tilted her head and bounced her shoulders, "I don't know – crash a car, maybe throw a rock through one of the windows at the DP; do whatever, just don't kill anybody."

Bucky lowered his head, "That's not my strong suit..."

 _Don't worry; you won't be there_ , Natasha thought. But instead of saying aloud, she gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher; some sort of mixture between annoyance and pity. "Well, try it on for size."

"So while you guys are causing a ruckus, Sam and I will dress as Ross' men – hints the navy uniforms – and we'll step in last second to be the ones that cuff you and take you aboard their jet; or whatever method of transportation they force you to take." Steve explained.

"What happens after we get to the prison?" Bucky asked, adjusting his himself in his seat and resting his hands on his propped-up leg.

"We'll leave the cuffs unlocked just enough to the point where you guys can escape from them. Halfway on our walk to your cells, you guys will get rid of the cuffs and we'll take care of the other soldiers." Steve finished, straightening up and tossing his pen onto the table after scribbling down a few more notes.

"'Take care of them'... like, kill them?" Scott asked with his eyebrows raised.

Steve thought about it for a second, then brushed it off quickly and mumbled, "If we need to."

 _Whoa_ , Scott thought. _An ex-army guy/ex-assassin/ex-brainwashed best friend who popped back into his life seventy years later to try and kill him but then changed his mind; and an ex-enemy/ex-Avenger/nineteen-year-old Sokovian weapon of mass destruction... I guess that makes two people Captain America would kill for._

Interrupting his train of thought, Natasha continued where Steve left off, "Then we'll go find Wanda and, hopefully, we'll get her back."

"We'll get her back." Steve said firmly, only he wasn't saying it to assure Natasha or the others so much as he was saying to assure _himself_.

Natasha realized this and nodded her head, "Hopefully, as in _surely_. That would be a better word." She hoped the gesture would ease his nerves and maybe even make him smile.

He didn't smile.

Bucky looked around the room and narrowed his eyes towards Steve in confusion, "Wait, if you and Sam are gonna pretend to be Ross' men," He gestured towards the other three, "and they're gonna be making a scene... what am I doing?"

Maria had long since finished her call with SHIELD and had been standing at the back of the room long enough to know where they were in the conversation, and she approached the table. "You and I will be waiting in the jet outside of the prison."

Bucky looked at her, and then at Steve – who nodded. His eyes softened, "I'm not fighting with you guys?"

Steve sighed and shook his head, "An hour ago, you had a hole in your leg, Buck. Physically, we can't risk anything."

"Yes, an hour ago I did. But I'm better now. I'm just fine to–"

"No."

"If anything goes wrong, you need to be the first person out." Maria rested her hand on Bucky's shoulder. He looked around the room, waiting for someone to object. But everyone kept quiet and sank their eyes towards their feet. That only made him angrier. He shrugged Maria's hand off of him and shot the whole table a desperate look.

"C'mon, guys! I'm fine!" He tried to stand up for emphasis, but then he remembered that he had strict orders from the medical team not to put any unnecessary pressure on his leg for the next couple of hours just to avoid the possibility of his stiches popping open. Steve knew that too – Christ, he had been there when Bucky was told that. But Bucky was determined to fight with the others. He sat forward before adding sharply, "I'm not some wounded animal!"

Steve began to walk towards him and reminded him calmly, "No, but you are wounded."

"Exactly how many injuries do you think I suffered from as the Winter Soldier? Not to mention the ones I got during our time in the army?"

"You're staying in the jet. End of story." Steve ended the conversation – his expression firm and cold.

Sam, sensing the uncomfortableness of the situation, changed the subject. He walked towards Steve, blocking him from Bucky's view as if setting a barrier between the two of them, and questioned, "The uniforms still need to get here – so until then, what do we do?"

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Natasha jumped in and placed her hand on his shoulder. "How 'bout we _relax_? It's the only chance we're gonna get for a while."

He gave her a cold look. Relax? How could she possibly find a time to relax during this mess? _You can't be serious, right?_ He thought. And for the first time in literally his life – he was _mad_ at her; not frustrated, not disappointed... but _mad_. She knew pretty well that Steve wasn't the type of person who could just "relax" on command, let alone while one of his friends was being held hostage by the person who wanted all of them behind bars.

His breath shook as it exhaled through his nostrils, and his eyes hardened slight enough to catch her attention. "You have fun with that. I've got planning to do." Then he turned away from her and left the room.

~

It was uncomfortable enough being forced onto a jet surrounded by Ross' men, but it was even worse when all of them were staring at you. Literally, every single one of Ross' goons had their eyes locked onto Natasha, Scott, and Clint – who sat with their hands cuffed behind their backs with two of the men holding them still them with their weapons loaded.

Actually, the two men holding them in place were Sam and Steve. That made it a little less uncomfortable and even a little humorous because as far as they were concerned – the other men surrounding them had no idea.

Good news was, obviously, that their plan to draw Ross' men into the city had worked. Thought Natasha had been joking when she suggested they crash a car, that's exactly what they did. Car incidents weren't new to them, and all three of them had survived multiple crashes – so when Natasha flipped their rental car (courtesy of Maria Hill) into a fire hydrant, she wasn't surprised when they all climbed out of the remains with multiple scratches and cuts, but no fatal injuries. And she wasn't surprised that when she did this in front of the P.D, an entire squad of officers came piling out to help or possibly arrest who they figured was probably a drunk driver. But when they saw the Black Widow climb out from the upside-down driver's seat, along with Hawkeye and Scott; they didn't hesitate to call Ross. And of course, because it was the most important part of the plan – they let them.

When the dozens of men sent by Ross came flooding in to arrest them, Steve and Sam – who were dressed identically to the rest – joined them from around the corner, made their way to the front, and volunteered as the two men to handcuff and escort the three onto the jet.

Now, here they were. They were perfectly on track with their plan, and the end-result depended on one not-so-tiny 'if' – that being, whether or not Ross was planning to take them to the same place as Wanda.

One of the men – who judging by the alpha-looking structure of his expression (and his badge that had the word "COMMANDANT" plastered across it), Natasha guessed was the head of the troops sent to arrest them – dangled his gun at his side and began to approach them. Natasha held her breath as he stood in front of the three of them.

"Phew," the commandant rolled his lips and shook his head, "I don't know what you guys were thinking back there – but _thank you_." Clint looked at him with his brow cocked in annoyance.

"Now all you have to do is sit patiently in your cells, wait for confrontation from the General and the UN – maybe spill the beans on where Rogers, Wilson, and Barnes are –and then _continue_ to sit in your cells. Well done."

Whatever methods of taunting this man was trying to pull off, Natasha wasn't having it. She rolled her eyes and turned her head away from the commandant and exhaled sharply through her nostrils. The commandant tilted his head and took a few steps closer to her – to a point where he was right her face.

Natasha was unaware that he was inches away from her face until he spoke, "If that fiasco back in the city was some sort of attempt at saving that Maximoff girl, I can assure you–"

Then she snapped. She whipped her head around to face him so quickly and harsh that he was slapped with the strands of her red hair. "That _Maximoff girl_ is a _kid_. Any and everything she's done against the worldwide civilians was for her own self-defense and you locked her up for something she has no control over. So _enjoy_ your little victory dance – but don't get too comfy being a step ahead because whatever she did to deserve this kind of treatment is _nothing_ compared to what she will do to you once it's over."

The commandant smiled. "You seem close. Like friends." He waited for a response, but instead he received an icy glare – and that was probably the nicest response he would receive from her.

His face hardened. "Listen, Mrs. Romanoff – I don't know what game you think you're playing, but I promise you," He narrowed his eyes, "You're gonna lose... If you know what's good for you and your friend, you'll keep your mouth shut and _your boots off of our faces_. Are we clear?"

The corners of her lips softly curved upward in a sarcastic semi-smile. "Crystal."

They looked at each other, disgusted by one another, for a small lingering moment before the commandant gave his head a little nod of satisfaction and turned his back to walk away. But Natasha was not the person to give in to _anybody_ and she snarled before he could get to the other side of the jet, "But let me ask you,"

The commandant stopped in his tracks to listen but didn't turn to face her. She continued, "When the game ends – and it will... how long do you think Ross can keep us locked up?"

~

Once the jet landed and the backdrop opened, all three of them –including Steve and Sam – exhaled with relief when they saw that Ross' men had taken them back to the supermax facility in the Pacific.

 _Hallelujah_ , Natasha thought, _one 'if' down – one more to go._

The men stood up from their seats in almost perfect unison, guns loaded and all, and they waited for the commandant to signal them to exit. He took his time standing up, looked at Steve and Sam through their face-hiding gear, and gestured for them to escort Natasha, Clint, and Scott off of the jet. It became clear that the other men wouldn't be allowed to leave the jet until the three of them did – because no smart soldiers would allow their prisoners to follow behind them (but then again, these were the same "smart" soldiers that were clueless to the fact that they had two phonies on board with them).

Sam, keeping with his character, grabbed Scott and Clint harshly at the backs of their necks – which he can't say he hadn't thought about doing _many_ times before – and forced them off of the jet. Steve attempted to follow along, but found himself placing his right hand gently onto Natasha's shoulder to escort her off. Then, to serve as a reminder that everything would turn out just fine, he snuck his free hand down to meet hers (which were loosely cuffed behind her back) and laced their fingers together.

If the commandant had been standing in front of them, he would've surely seen Natasha grin childishly. But even though he wasn't, she cleared her throat, gave Steve's hand a secret little squeeze, and let him guide her off of the jet.

As they were being marched down the hallways, evidentially, they crossed paths with the Ross himself – who was quietly sipping a cup of coffee when he noticed his men approaching with his "prisoners".

If Steve hadn't been pretending to be one of his soldiers, he would've thrown punches at him then and there. But instead, he bit his tongue and tried not to stop in his path.

But Ross noticed them, of course he noticed them, and he smiled devilishly. "Good afternoon," He greeted.

"Go to hell." Clint, who wasn't having it, snapped at him.

Ross gave his eyes a quick roll and continued on his path to wherever, but not before spitting back, "Great. See you there." If the remark had come from anyone other than Ross – or Tony Stark – Natasha might've laughed.

As they continued walking down the prison hallways to their cells, Steve pulled the key to Natasha's handcuffs from his jumpsuit pocket and began unlocking it out of the other men's sight. Once the cuffs loosened and Natasha could slip them off easily, he slipped the key into her hand, nodded at Sam – who was right beside him with Scott and Clint – and the two of them whipped around to hit the men behind them with a full-strength uppercut punch.

That was when the chaos ensued.

Taken aback by the unexpected harassment, the other men frantically tried to re-load their weapons – but Steve and Sam were going full out on them and they knocked every single one of them off of their feet. As more violent punches and kicks were thrown between the two of them and Ross' men, Natasha flung her handcuffs across the narrow hallway and leaped over to Sam and Clint's side. Using the key Steve had given her; she unlocked both of their cuffs in a swift movement and yanked them to their feet.

When the three of them looked back, Steve was bringing his elbow down hard on top of the back of a soldier's neck – who collapsed immediately onto the ground at the contact with Steve's bone.

Natasha took a moment to look around. She counted about eight men lying unconscious on the floor. They all looked like dead fish – which they weren't, but Ross would definitely think otherwise if they saw them.

Unfortunately, eight wasn't all of them. There were still five soldiers throwing punches at Steve and Sam. Clint charged towards the mess and began fighting alongside the two of them and called for Scott to do the same.

Before Natasha could regather her thoughts and join the others, Sam called, "Steve! You and Nat go find Wanda!"

One of the men swung a round-house kick at Steve – who ducked beneath the kick and rolled out of the way. As soon as Steve was clear out of the way, Sam tackled the man while Clint and Scott held off the remaining four men – allowing Steve and Natasha the head start they needed to get to Wanda.

The two of them took off in a fast sprint – running as fast as they could down the hallway in hopes that they would find Wanda in one of the cells. But as they approached the end of their original hallway and took a sharp turn around the corner, they collided head-on with someone from the other side.

They and the person they collided into went flying backwards. Natasha was fairly the same height as the person and they smashed their foreheads against one another, whereas Steve was so much taller, he got crashed into by the rest of the person's body – forcefully knocking the wind out of him.

They were all three on the floor in pain – nothing Steve and Natasha hadn't dealt with a hundred times before, of course. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and widened her eyes in attempt to get them to adjust back to normal.

Steve and the other person shared a grunt of agony – only Steve recognized that sound slipping from that person's lips. He had heard it a million times before during the training of the Next Avengers. It sounded _just like_ the grunt Wanda would force out every time she would fall while trying to use her powers to fly.

He blinked his eyes and finally stared at the person in front of him. Dark hair. Green eyes. Fair skin. "Wanda?"

Wanda rubbed her eyes and stared at the two of them. Her face flipped. The three of them scrambled to their feet and Natasha coughed, "Are you okay!?"

"Are you?" Wanda ignored the question, seeming to be completely surprised by their appearance at the prison.

Steve squinted his eyes and nodded his head. In a flabbergasted manner, he answered, "We're fine... are you–"

He was cut off by Wanda throwing her arms tightly around him and Natasha in a hug – and it wasn't like one of those sweet little hugs that you share with your friend after returning to school from summer break, no, it was like one of those hugs you share with your friend when you thought you'd never see them alive again (not that very many people have those kinds of hugs).

Wanda closed her eyes shut and whimpered against their shoulders, "You came back..."

Natasha felt little droplets of liquid hit her clothes; tears. Wanda was crying.

Now Natasha wasn't the type of person who would let you cry on her shoulder, but she looked down at Wanda and she couldn't help but want to cry herself. _Okay, Maximoff..._ she thought as she pulled her in tighter, _just this once._

Steve shook his head in relief and confusion, "Of course we did," Did Wanda not think that they would come back for her? "Wanda?" He looked down at her in concern.

Natasha broke the hug and pressed the back of her hand against Wanda's forehead. If she herself had such bad of a headache from running into Wanda a few moments ago, she could only imagine how much pain Wanda was in or would be in later. "How did you get out of your cell?"

"They didn't put me in a cell, they put me in an office with Ross' soldiers." Wanda explained. When she saw the confused expressions on their faces, she elaborated further, "They wanted to use me as bait to draw you in. When I heard they captured you all in the city, I was sick to my stomach."

"Wait so they just let you leave?" Steve asked. _No way. They would never just let any of us leave._

"Uh... Not really..." Wanda confessed, tilting her head. "A few minutes after you arrived, I heard the alarms going off in the room – it was a signal for backup. All of Ross' soldiers in the room left in full gear except for one, who was told to stay and watch me. Fortunately, he wasn't extremely hard to get past... even with my hands tied up." She held out her arms for them to see the rope burns on both of her wrists.

"Let me guess," Natasha crossed her arms and smirked, "Scrawny and unarmed?"

Wanda looked at her, "Yeah..." She squinted her eyes in confusion, "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. Come on, we have to go help Clint and the others; considering you said there were more soldiers on their way down there." Natasha grabbed Wanda by her forearm and pulled her a few steps down the way they came and gestured for Steve to follow.

Wanda rolled her shoulder back, freeing herself from Natasha's grip, and stopped. "Wait, what happens if we run into more of Ross' men on our way?" She rubbed her knuckles, playing guiltily with her energy rays, and lowered her eyes to the floor... "What if they fight?"

Natasha looked at Steve, who shrugged, and she grasped Wanda gently by her wrists – trying carefully not to put too much pressure on her rope burns. She watched the red rays of energy circle around the fingers of Wanda's hand she was holding up, and as if giving her permission, she nodded, "Fight back."

When they made it back to the point in the hallway where the others were, about fifteen more men had beat them there in full gear. Sam, Clint, and Scott had done a pretty good job at keeping them occupied, but they were getting tired – which wasn't a good thing, because this time the men Ross had sent down weren't shy about using their guns.

Natasha looked to the other side of the hallway and saw a black handgun – probably one of Ross' men's – lying unattended on the floor. She took the opportunity and she flung herself onto the floor and slid across to grab it. "Wanda!" She yelled, signaling her to do something.

Wanda didn't hesitate. "Get down!" She yelled to Sam, Scott, and Clint as she conjured a glowing red sphere of energy and sent it flying towards Ross' men. The three of them ducked, and she the sphere took out two men. She continued doing this until Natasha made it back to them behind the corner of the wall.

Natasha looked around the corner, ducked back as a bullet was fired in their direction, and held her gun out to fire back. She turned to Steve and Wanda and gestured for them to follow her to the other side, where she could get a clearer shot at the scene. Steve pulled a gun from his jumpsuit, and on Natasha's cue, the three of them bolted to down the hall. Steve and Natasha fired bullets from their guns, taking down at least one soldier, while Wanda flung more energy spheres at them.

By the time they made it to the other side, the soldiers' guns had run out of bullets and Clint, Scott, and Sam had begun to fight them hand-to-hand. There were only four soldiers left standing after the firefight, and Natasha knew that she could easily take them out from the angle she was standing at.

"Steve – give me your gun!" She barked. He tossed it to her willingly; he had never been a master with guns to begin with, and he held Wanda back to keep her from getting shot. Natasha held up both guns – one in each hand – and fired both of them at the same time; taking out two more bad guys.

Now there were just two men left standing. Sam through a hard punch to one of their noses and when he stumbled back, he kicked him forcefully in the chest. The man flew back and landed hard on the floor, and Sam knelt down to deliver one last blow to the man's face. Then, he was out like a light.

Scott and Clint had been working at the last standing soldier for what seemed like the entire time. They were giving him everything they had to try and take him out hand-to-hand – but he was giving them even more. He jumped up and did a quick twirl and gave Scott a harsh roundhouse kick to the side of his face.

Scott stumbled back and fell onto his tailbone. _God damn!_ He thought as he caressed his own cheek in pain, _that guy is freaking sick at martial arts!_ To which everyone else thought the same thing.

Clint soon realized that he wouldn't be able to beat this guy by firing back with punches, so he focused more on blocking the punches and kicks thrown at him – which he was actually inexplicably good at. As the man came at him hard, he blocked his kick with his forearms and dodged the punches thrown at him. But one hook got him in the nose and he threw his head back in pain.

Natasha had had enough. "Clint!" She called. He looked back at her as he dodged the next kick and Natasha loaded the next bullet in her gun and held it out. "Catch!"

She tossed her gun through the air and he leaped up to grab it perfectly in his hands. He wrapped his finger around the trigger and turned around at just the right moment to point it directly at the man's chest.

He pulled the trigger.

All of the men sent were down.

Clint tossed the gun back to Natasha as the three of them came out from behind the corner and he helped Scott to his feet.

Steve exhaled, "The alarms are still going off. That means there's more men on the way."

Clint nodded. "We need to go." He said as he pulled Wanda in for a quick hug.

"Everybody get to the jet! I'll stay towards the back in case Ross' men have any ideas of sneaking up on us." Steve vowed.

Wanda turned her head and walked out slightly to look down the opposite hallway. She exhaled fearfully and walked back over to Steve, pointing down the hallway. "Those men are armed. You don't have your shield and let's be honest – you don't know squat about using a gun. Let me be at the end."

Steve exhaled and looked around at his surroundings frantically. His eyes fell on a metal door a couple feet away from where he was standing. He marched quickly over towards it, sized it up and down with his eyes, and then pressed gently against it – causing it to wobble slightly on its hinges.

He paused to think for a moment before swiveling around to face Natasha.  "Nat, can I see your gun for a second?"

She looked at the gun in her hands, looked at him, and then tossed it over to him. Naturally, everyone pushed back away from Steve and the door as he fired a bullet straight at the center of the door.

It barely made a dent. He exhaled. _I can work with this._

He paced over to Wanda's side, grabbed her forearm, and pointed at the door. "Can you get that door off its hinges?"

Wanda tilted her head and looked at the door, sighing. She raised her hands and inched her fingers around to create more rays of energy. Like she had done similarly with the green gas in Lagos, she engulfed the door in red light and removed it from its loose hinges. When she released her grip on it, Steve was right below to catch it perfectly in his hands. It was fairly heavy, but it was manageable.

He looked at Wanda and nodded, " _Now_ I have a shield –" he gestured his head towards the stairs, "Go."

They didn't waste a second. They bolted towards the metal staircase on opposite sides of the prison and didn't look back – or at least, not until they heard a swarm of rubber-sole footsteps charging behind them and the firing of guns.

Out of habit, Natasha and Clint ducked down as they ran, "Stay low!" Clint warned. But they found that most of the bullets being fired at them were being blocked by Steve's "shield".

As they made it to the stairs and started darting up to the top, Steve began reacting more physically to the men chasing them. When they got within his reach, he would kick them hard in their lower abdomens and they would tumble back down the stairwell. This easily took out a good three or four men just by throwing a kick at one. Any other bullets being fired at him were stopped at contact with the door Wanda had removed from its hinges. And when their guns ran out of bullets and the last few standing men came rushing towards him – he swung the door over his shoulder, winding up like he would his usual shield, and he hurled it at them; sending all of remaining men tumbling hard down the stairs with a loud 'CRASH'.

He turned his back to the scene and darted up the stairs with the others, "Go!" He urged.

The door to the top of the roof flung open, letting bright rays of sunlight into the greyness of the prison. They piled out onto the dark metal, one by one, and rushed to the sight of Bucky poking his head out from behind the chopper door and waving, screaming at them, "Come on! Hurry! Run!"

Then they heard a gunshot.

They urged themselves not to look back, because looking back while running is an easy way to get caught – but as Bucky's expression contorted and his entire face dropped, Natasha could help but turn around.

But she wished that she hadn't, because what she saw was Steve grasping his lower abdomen and slowly collapsing to the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

     An ear-piercing scream escaped Wanda's lips as Steve fell and landed motionless on his side. It was like watching it happen all over again – her brother's death in Sokovia, only this time with Steve. This time, with the man who was the closest person she had to family since Pietro. And as he collapsed, her heart was ripped from her chest – just like in Sokovia.

     Just like Sokovia.

     It seemed everything was just like Sokovia now. They, the Avengers, had no home anymore. They were left with just themselves with nobody to turn to (with the exception of SHIELD, of course). People were getting hurt because of their actions... just like in Sokovia. Watching everything happen as she had was painful – the kind of pain that throbs in your chest and demands to be felt. And Wanda was feeling that pain more than anyone else.

     Then the tears came. They burst through like warm sink water being spilled from its faucet and they didn't stop. And neither did the screaming.

     Bucky hurled himself out of the hovering helicopter and nearly tripped over himself running to the scene. He wasn't screaming – he had suddenly lost his voice, nor did he cry – because he didn't have any left in him. Perhaps they had all been soaked up during his time as the Winter Soldier. Perhaps he didn't remember how to cry... but if that were the case, he knew he was sure to learn – because yards across from him lay his only best friend; motionless with a hole in his abdomen. _I'm sure to learn,_ he thought, or at least managed to think in the scramble of emotions racing throughout his brain and his heart in the moment; the terrible, horrible moment.

     "NO!" Sam cried in horrible disbelief. It had happened so fast. One moment he was perfectly fine; whole, and the next he was – not. Scott bit his tongue – unsure of how to react. He stood like a statue in his place with his mouth open in a gaping "O." _Captain America_ was at a weak state on the floor... and for the first time since they met, Scott didn't see Captain America – he saw Steve Rogers. And _Steve Rogers was dying._

     Then they were all running towards him. Bucky, Sam, Clint... and Natasha. She couldn't remember the last time she cried; really cried. It had to have been decades ago, when she was still a child who hadn't yet been immune to the horrors of The Red Room.

     But she wasn't holding back now. She was _bawling_ – her sobs echoing in the air and shaking as she ran to Steve's side. It was as if every emotion of sadness and every emotion of fear or despair she had felt in the past twenty-two years of her life were suddenly being let out in her tears. In all honesty, they were. If you were part of SHIELD, or had ever worked with Natasha or known her personally before, you would have maybe seen her shed a tear once (if any). In most cases, it was because she had dropped a weight a little too hard onto her foot during training hours – but never because she was in emotional pain. Actually, seeing Natasha break down in _emotional_ pain was rare – almost non-existent. Yet, here she was... creeping out from her stone-cold shell so far as if she were abandoning it completely. And she _bawled_.

     She flung herself down at Steve's side and scooped his upper body into her shaking arms – holding him like the world would end if she let go. Her tears dripped from her flushed cheeks onto his face and she tried to steady her fingers long enough to get a firm grip around his wrist to check his pulse. But the more she tried to stop the shaking, the worse it got.

     She heard another swarm of heavy soldier footsteps rushing up the staircase a few meters away from where they lay sprawled out on the floor. She held her breath in between sobs as they got closer... closer... closer. And then before she even had a chance to see their faces, her attention was drawn to their weapons. Their _floating_ weapons.

     She caught a glimpse of a red glow around each loaded assault rifle and knew what was about to happen off the top of her head.

     Wanda, who had harsh black mascara stains down her face, was shaking angrily and painfully as she focused her telekinetic energy on Ross' soldiers' weapons. She was sobbing loud enough for Natasha to hear – and there was a good amount of distance between them. But even from afar, Natasha could see the red in her eyes and she coldness of her expression. She knew exactly what Wanda was about to do.

     Natasha shot an icy glare at the men behind her, who were eyeing their floating weapons in confusion while at the same time stepping back in fear – they knew what Wanda was about to do as well. Then, Natasha looked back down at Steve; bloody and bruised in her arms, and for the moment – she didn't care what happened to the men who did that to him, so long as it caused them more pain than it caused her. Unmatchable, she thought as many more heavy tears streamed down her face, and then she looked to Wanda... _do your worst._

     Practically on cue, Wanda roared loudly in agony and sent every single bullet loaded into the men's guns piercing through their bodies. Dozens upon dozens of shots were launched and dozens upon dozens sliced through the men's figures – causing them to drop dead to the floor; bloody to a pulp. Even when there were no more of Ross' soldiers left standing, Wanda continued firing their guns at nothing.

     Natasha covered her ears for the first time since she graduated from the Red Room, as did the others, and she leaned over Steve to prevent him from being shot again. She rocked back and forth, and as if trying to be louder than the bullets being fired, she screamed. It was a scream of pain, sadness, and fear... a scream of everything she was feeling right then and there. And when the shooting stopped and the screams died out, Wanda fell to her knees.

     _Forgive me, Lord,_ she thought, and continued to cry into the palms of her hands.

     The others had stopped running towards Steve to take the proper positions for a firefight – back turned to the scene, body hunched over, and hands on the back of your head... or, in Scott's case, lying flat as a pancake with your face to the ground. Now, they had all looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and resumed darting to Steve's side – leaving Wanda alone in a bug on the floor.

     Natasha wiped a strand of Steve's hair out of his face and sobbed, "Steve?" She sniffled as more tears fell down her face and she begged at his silence, "Steve, say something!"

     Bucky clenched Steve's arm at his side and shook it slightly, "Steve!?"

     Natasha shook her head in refusal to accept the sight of Steve in her arms. She cried to Clint, "He's not conscious!"

     "Get him on the jet! He can't lose blood like this!" Clint ordered, lowering himself frantically to their side and tucked his hands underneath Steve's back.

     "Maria! Call 9-1-1!" Sam yelled to the jet. Maria was about to run to the scene when Wanda began firing the guns. Then instead, she covered herself and ducked low to the floor of the jet. Once the shooting stopped, she re-gathered herself, prepared for the worst, and stepped outside.

      She wiped tears from her lashes and pinched her earpiece between her fingers. From the other end, the receiver recited the usual, "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

     "Yeah, hi, uhm..." Maria choked, pressing her free hand to the side of her face to control herself, "Where's a hospital nearest to the coast of the upper west side? Please, it's urgent."

     "Ma'am?" The receiver spoke in confusion.

     Back at Steve's side, Natasha tried to lift him all by herself in a hurry, but even a woman of her strength couldn't lift a super-soldier single-handedly. She panicked, "Help! I can't carry him!"

     "Shh, shh..." Clint urged, trying to calm her down, and he eyed his hands that were positioned underneath Steve. "I got you – on three. One... two... three." He and Natasha lifted Steve up off of the ground.

     "Come on, man," Clint grunted, using all of his strength to hold this man in his arms even with Natasha's help, "Let's get you to the hospital."

      Sam leaped to the other side to lift his head and waved at Scott, "Grab his legs!"

     Scott stuttered and gripped both of Steve's legs in his arms, "I've got it... Oh, God..." He exhaled, only now noticing the depth of his bullet wound and how much he was bleeding.

     They carried Steve's limp body quickly but carefully to the jet. In their rush to get him on board, Clint glanced over his shoulder at the realization that Wanda wasn't following them. She was leaned back onto her knees, slouched over with her long dark hair hiding her face in the middle of the floor. Her shoulders bounced ever so slightly to rhythm of her sobbing – and the closer he listened in, the louder they echoed.

     Clint looked to his left and his eyes met the side of Bucky's face, who was lingering droopily near the others carrying Steve. Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, Clint exhaled, "Bucky, take him."

     Bucky was startled by his words with the way his eyes darted up in alert. It took him a few split-seconds to comprehend what Clint was saying, and the exchange happened quickly. Bucky slipped his hands underneath Steve's back, in the same spot Clint had his, and then Clint let go and jogged over to Wanda.

     Before he even had the chance to say a word to Wanda, more men came up the staircase with their weapons and pointed them – but they didn't fire.

     "Stop where you are!" The man at the front shouted. His voice was deep and raspy – it blurred his words and sent an uncomfortable chill down Natasha's spine.

     "Oh, you've got to be _kidding_ me!" Clint winded venomously in irritation and anger. God damn it Ross, how many of these men do you have on stand-by? Why don't you just come down here and take care of us yourself, big man?

     In actual fear of being fired at again, everybody froze in their spot. Then, the man at the front of the cluster of Ross' soldiers ordered with authority, "Now turn where I can face you, or we _will_ open fire!"

     Sam's expression hardened and he gulped, "Wanda!"

     Wanda, as if she were so deep into her own world that she didn't even notice Ross' men standing at the stairwell, looked up and out to see them for the first time. Clint could sense her heart drop inside her chest in a combination of fear, sadness, and more visibly – rage.

     Her eyes turned cold. Her green irises were soon engulfed in that eerie red glow, just like they did during times of _serious_ anger, and they sent a glare like a laser beam towards Ross' men. She thought of Steve and the hole they had left in his abdomen a few minutes earlier, and how it seemed to have no effect whatsoever on them as they stood with their guns pointed in her direction. She didn't look back at Steve, though – she didn't need to. Looking back at him would only fuel the fire and in extreme cases – it would end much worse for Ross' men than death by their own bullets. It would mean she would rip them apart – she had the power to. She could do it right now. But instead of pulling their limbs apart one by one, she exhaled calmly and slowly – but the fury was still there.

     She stood up slowly, not once breaking contact with the men. They all shifted and pointed their guns at her as she came up off of the ground. She could sense the fear within all of them – she even saw one of the men's fingers tremble from behind the trigger.

     "Wanda, be careful!" Clint reminded. _Don't make this worse._

      She paused; thinking about what she could do; what she would do, to make them scream just as she had when they fired that bullet into Steve's body. _Don't make this worse._

_Don't make this worse._

_It's already worse._

_Don't._

_Control yourself._

     _Control..._

     Then all of their bullets were being rapidly emptied from their guns – from their bare hands – for the second time, and were sent flying into the ocean, forming little ripples in the water.

     The men flew back, weaponless, in fear of being murdered by the mourning young woman before them. Wanda even heard little cries for help escape their mouths – but it didn't make up for the fact that her best friend had a hole in his abdomen.

     _It's not enough,_ she thought. _More of them will come – and then it will be us crying for help._

     Then, without even realizing she had the power to do so, she put up a thick glowing barrier, created sorely from her energy, between herself and the stairwell – blocking off contact with Ross and his men and anybody else who would choose to come up those stairs. The barrier was strong if she concentrated hard enough, which she did, and for the moment, they were safe.

     Clint exhaled with relief, gave Wanda quick sarcastic clap, and tugged at her arm, "Alright, thank you, love you – let's go."

     She didn't budge.

     He exhaled again, this time slightly annoyed, and raised his voice, "Come on! Let's go!"

     She didn't look back to meet his eyes, but instead she stood with her entire body focused on the barrier of energy she was controlling. "I can't leave without losing focus and I can't lose focus without dropping the barrier."

     "Tough." Clint said as he moseyed his way to the front of her, ducked down, and picked her up off the ground by her legs – swinging her over his shoulder.

     "Clint!" She howled, trying desperately not to break her focus with the barrier. "Clint, stop!"

     "You may be slouched over my shoulder right now, but you're still facing the barrier which means you can still concentrate on it which means you can keep it up long enough for us to get off of the ground and leave – and we're leaving right now, one way or the other." He explained firmly, which easily translated to _"don't argue with me, because I'll win.'_

     She caught the message and realized it was probably best for not to argue with him right then and there. She kept her powers concentrated on the barrier as Clint ran her to the jet. As soon as the two of them were on board, Maria shoved the joystick forward, sending the jet flying off as fast as it would go. The backdrop shut, Clint set Wanda down on the floor, and they both panted with relief and exhaustion.

     But the second they turned around to face the others, they wish they hadn't. Natasha squatting down next to Steve, who was sprawled across the row of seats on the left-hand-side, and she was holding his head and left hand in her arms. Sam and Scott were tearing apart the emergency first-aid kits that were kept under the pilot's seat, trying to find as many rolls of cotton gauze as they could to wrap Steve's wound area. Bucky was curled up in a ball on the floor, leaned against the row of seats closest to the front of the jet on the right-hand-side. Tears stained his dull, bloodshot eye. _My God..._ Clint thought as he took everything in.

     Natasha pressed her hand lightly against Steve's wounded area and when she pulled it away; her entire palm was covered in blood. She looked at it, moaned in confusion of what to do, and then lifted Steve's shirt up just above his bellybutton to get a better look at the wound. It was bad.

     "Alcohol," She choked, "Somebody get me rubbing alcohol and cotton gauze," She needed to clean around the wound. It was bad to pour rubbing alcohol inside your injuries, and she knew this, but she still needed something to clean at least what was around the bullet hole. _Clean up the blood,_ she thought, _before you pass out._

     Sam handed her a small bottle of the rubbing alcohol and a tiny piece of gauze. She brought the gauze to the tiny opening at the top of the bottle and poured the liquid onto it slowly before gently swiping it across Steve's bare skin.

     "Be careful with that, Nat," Sam warned, "Don't get that inside the wound. It'll–"

     "–Kill the living cells? I know that." Natasha snapped. "I've taken medical courses before. I know the dos and don'ts. But somebody has to clean up the blood on the surface before it dries." _Before I throw up._

     Clint had been standing in the same spot as he was when he first carried Wanda on. He hadn't moved. He was too distracted by the realization of everything that had just happened. But his thoughts were interrupted as Wanda crashed against him in a tight hug and proceeded to cry. And Clint, being the all-good nurturer that he was when it came to Wanda – he didn't object. He just wrapped his arms around her and tried not to think.

~

     A good forty-five minutes had passed with them still on the jet. They had all kind of found a place to settle down in the silence and hope for the best. Natasha had moved into the seat, still next to Steve, with his head rested in her lap. She could feel him breathing against her lower body; which somehow soothed her in the midst of reality. Her eyes were bloodshot and dull and her pale face was flushed with rosy tones from crying. Her fingers were clasped around his wrist – tapping against the soft skin to keep track of his pulse. It was slow, but it was there. _You can do it, Rogers,_ she thought, _you can last another fifteen minutes. You have to._

     Sam and Scott had made their way into the row of seats opposite of Natasha. Both of their faces were dull and looked even more lifeless than Steve's. Neither of them was sure of what to do next or what to say. What could they say? At a time like this, things were better off unspoken.

     Clint was sitting on the floor leaning against the backdrop with his knees casually tucked to his chest. He had his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep – he was rubbing his silver wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger while thinking about Laura and his kids. The fact that Steve was unconscious in the row of seats a couple feet away from him was circling in his mind too, of course – which is why focusing on his family was important to him and his thoughts at the moment... they were the only thing that brought happiness and hope to his mind in times of distress.

     Wanda was asleep on her side in one of the rows of seats with her knees tucked tightly to her chest. She had harsh mascara stains down her face in the shape of tear drops and you could hear tiny breaths of air enter and exit her mouth. She looked like the epitome of a stereotypical teenager who just had her heart broken by her boyfriend – only; she _wasn't_ a stereotypical teenager who just had her heart broken by her boyfriend... she was a teenager who just had her heart shredded by the trauma of watching her mentor get shot. She was Wanda Maximoff – and she looked like she had just been hit by a bus.

     Bucky was still curled up in a ball on the floor, only now he was rocking back and forth slightly like a person on the verge of a mental breakdown – which, to be fair, in a way, he was. He was mumbling things now; things that Natasha couldn't quite make out except for one. It sounded like a prayer to God, "Please... I just got him back... Please don't take him from me again... please, please..."

     Natasha looked away from the horror of Bucky losing his mind in the corner of the jet. She widened her eyes and blinked in attempts to get them to adjust again. She brought her free hand to her face to wipe a newly shed tear from just below her eye socket and then she leaned back in her seat. Steve's breathing was still noticeable against her lap and she exhaled – brushing a short strand of hair out of his face and cupping her hand over his forehead. She looked up at the sky, shook her head, and thought, _he's in your hands now, whoever's up there... don't take advantage of my trust._

     Then more tears came flooding silently down her face and she couldn't handle it anymore. She closed her eyes shut, trying to hold her tears back – and while still clinging to Steve's slow-beating pulse through his wrist, tried to think of what could possibly happen next that would result in a positive outcome. _Steve won't die,_ she thought, trying to convince herself. But she knew deep down in her heart that it was probably a lie.


	17. Chapter 17

     Natasha felt her heart sink a little as the jet touched the soil of Belfast. The closest hospital on the upper west side, as Maria had found out, was near the coast of Maine. With the jet soaring at full speed, they had made it to Belfast within less than forty minutes.

     Nobody had moved during the flight. Then again, nobody had a reason to move. Steve still lay across the row of seats with his head propped up in Natasha's lap – who still had her fingers tapping against his pulse. His breathing was still soft but steady, as was his pulse, but even with the gauze wrapped tightly around his lower abdomen, he had lost so much blood – which, of course, caused him to lose most of the color to his skin and he was pale...er than normal.

     Now, Sam was using all his strength to carry Steve quickly into the hospital. He was lighter due to the loss of fluid in his body; however, he was still quite heavy for Sam to carry all by himself – but he would manage.

     Natasha and Bucky followed close behind them with expressions of worry plastered across their faces. Natasha would've gladly helped Sam in getting Steve into the hospital, but he turned her down. Truth was he didn't want to risk her having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the parking lot.

     Clint was behind the two of them walking quickly while still keeping an arm wrapped around Wanda – who hadn't said a word since he carried her onto the jet. Though she would never verbally admit it, there were only a select two people who she felt completely protected with; Steve and Clint. And Steve had a hole in his body. So of course, she stuck around Clint and refused to leave his side probably until Steve woke up. _If_ he woke up.

     Lastly, Scott and Maria tried to keep up with the pace of the others as they walked through the doors and the nurses, who knew they were coming (because Maria had called, of course), rushed towards them with a mobile hospital bed. Sam, as if he were saying goodbye to Steve forever, handed him off to crowd of nurses and doctors and they placed him carefully onto the bed. Then, in a heartbeat, they were gone around the corner into the nearest room. Natasha tried to follow their path with her eyes, but her sight of the mobile bed was blocked by a nurse stopping in front of her.

     She was an African American woman, who looked to be about in her late fifties, and her hair was a mess of black tiny curls thrown into a high bun. What took Natasha by surprise were her big eyes – her _light blue_ eyes which were outlined in soft black eyeliner. "Ma'am," the nurse addressed, "Could you please give a brief explanation as to what happened?"

     Natasha stared at the woman blankly until she was forced to clarify, "For his file, of course."

      "Yeah, um..." Natasha began, slightly embarrassed, "It's complicated – I don't know exactly how to phrase it without it sounding, uh..."

     "Like a crime?" the nurse finished with her eyebrow raised. Natasha gave her a confused look. The nurse exhaled and sank into her hip. "I don't mean to alarm you, but you are the Avengers – and you're fugitives. I doubt anything you say will surprise me. So spare yourself the tongue-twisters and lay it down the way it happened." Her voice was calm, but her words were firm.

     _Just say it, Romanov,_ Natasha thought until she began to force the truth out. "Okay. Um, well – he was shot about an hour ago in his lower abdomen, and... uh..."

     Natasha was distracted by the conversation between another two nurses around the corner and down the hall. The hospital itself was eerily quiet; quieter than most hospitals Natasha had visited, but she was surprised as to how she was able to hear their conversation. She looked over her shoulder to see them and she listened carefully as they spoke.

     "He's lost too much blood." One of them spoke – she was a white woman with her dirty blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, and she wore blue scrubs. "I don't know how much longer he'll last before his pulse starts going nuts..."

     The other nurse, who was a white man in the same blue scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, shook his head in disappointment, "Can you give me an estimation?"

     The woman pursed her lips and continued, "If I had to guess, I'd say it may only be a few hours at most before his circulatory system calls it quits."

     Natasha's heart dropped at the words and she turned to the nurse in front of her, "Excuse me." She said and she began walking down the hallway. _No way is what I'm hearing true. It can't be._

     She plopped herself in front of the other two nurses, who were in mid conversation. She cleared her throat, in attempts to let them know she was standing right there. "What room did they just take Steve Rogers into?"

     The female nurse raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, "Pardon?"

     "Steve Rogers. What operating room is he in?"

     The male nurse waved his hand off to the other one, as if telling her to leave, and stepped forward, "Ma'am, I'm afraid unless you're staff or part of the medical team, you're not permitted to enter the operating rooms. We have a waiting room past the front desk–"

     "I don't want to sit in the waiting room, I want to know if my friend is okay!" Natasha yelled, causing the surrounding faces to turn and look at them.

     "Miss, I'm very sorry," the female nurse hadn't left as requested, and she gently grabbed hold of Natasha's arm, "But I'm going to need you to–"

     She was cut off by Natasha ripping her arm out of her reach, "Don't touch me!"

     "Miss!"

     "Just tell me where he is!"

     The man tried to grab hold of her as he frantically explained, "Letting friends and family members enter the operating room is strictly prohibited–"

     "Let her go." A voice came from behind.

     All three of them turned to see the African-American nurse Natasha had originally talked to standing only feet away from them.

     The other female raised her eyebrows in question, "Excuse me?"

     "Let the poor lady see her friend. She can watch from behind the glass."

     "I can?" Natasha asked, lowering her voice.

     "Sure – if you want to so bad," The woman offered with a slight teasing smile, "Look, I'll even take you down there myself. Okay?" She placed her hand gently on Natasha's back, "Come on."

     As they began to walk off, the woman turned to face the other two nurses. "Would you do me a favor and please escort the group of people at the end of the hall to the waiting room? Kindly, I might add."

     The second female nurse relaxed her face, swallowing her pride in confusion, and nodded, "Of course."

     The two of them walked slowly down the hallways of the hospital. Only now was Natasha observing the details in the environment. The walls were painted white, along with the glazy tile beneath them. The doors to the hospital rooms were a light natural wood color and had soft grey frames. Florescent lights hung from the ceiling, as did small triangular banners with different signatures on them.

     On the walls, there were pictures. Some of them were small and framed and of different staff members with bronzy labels that read titles like _"February's Doctor of the Month"_ or _"2015's Nurse of the Year!"_

     Then there were other, not so happy framed pictures. These were big, and hung underneath a big silver title that read _"In Loving Memory of..."_ Most of them were of little boys and girls in their hospital beds with their bare heads and had their names engraved underneath the photograph along with _"...Who Lost [His/Her] Battle to Cancer"._ One of the pictures was taken of a little girl, who looked to be about eleven or twelve, who looked almost identical to one of Natasha's sisters from The Red Room – only her eyes were brown instead of green. Suddenly, Natasha felt uneasy and picked up her pace.

     The nurse, who hadn't taken her hand off of Natasha's back, opened the metal door to the operating room and extended her hand as a gesture. "There you are."

     Natasha followed inside the dark room with slight hesitance. She was about to close the door, but she quickly peered her head around the it from the inside and looked the kind nurse in her big blue eyes. "Thank you." She said genuinely.

     The nurse nodded with a friendly, half smile and closed the door. Natasha stayed facing the metal door for a short moment before turning her head slowly to look out through the glass separating her from the actual room where the operating went on. She wrapped her arms around herself and raised her shoulders slightly, as one does when they're uncomfortable, and she began to walk closer; looking out at the sight beyond the glass.

     Steve was shirtless on the operating table with a traditional white and blue patterned hospital gown covering his lower body. The white cotton gauze wrapped around his abdomen was a dark red from his blood. The surrounding surgeons and nurses scrambled around him trying to prep him for surgery and Natasha's breathing wobbled.

      The glass separating them had to be one-way, a.k.a – she could see them, but they couldn't see her, because nobody on the other side stopped to acknowledge her presence or even seemed to notice that she was watching. Her breathing hitched softly as she exhaled, taking in the sight and preparing herself for what she was _about_ to see.

     She looked down at her feet, pursed her lips, and spoke softly as if talking to Steve. "How about that... started with the accords and now we're here..." She looked through the glass, "Lucky us."

     She watched as they brought out the tools on a silver tray that they would use on him during the operation, and began to wonder if this was something she really wanted to see. She thought about it, sighed, and continued to talk as she decided that 'yes' was her answer.

     "I guess you are kind of helpless without your shield," she gave a hopeless laugh, trying to hide her sadness with sarcasm. "I've only told you that a couple hundred times, but it's all good... this weeks' life lesson? Natasha is _always_ right."

     One of the surgeons picked up a tiny pair of medical scissors from the tray and began to cut off the bloody gauze wrapped around his figure, revealing the bullet wound as everything it was – big, bad, and bulging.

     Natasha let her eyes wander around the room, trying to distract herself from the scene, and she lowered her voice. _Time to be sincere, Romanov,_ she thought and swallowed hard.

     "I uh... I know you can't actually hear anything I'm saying right now, and that I'm literally talking to myself, but... I'm okay with that – I'd prefer it that way, actually. Because most of what I'm about to say is stuff I'd never say out loud to you." She paused, unsure of whether or not she was willing to verbalize what she was thinking. _You have to,_ she thought, _you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't._

     "Um... okay, so where do I start? Well, I guess you're kind of important to me... _really_ important to me." Her voice trembled softly. "Nothing lasts forever. But I think that if there's anything that could potentially last forever, it's that. Actually, if there's anything that _will_ last forever, it's that. But don't quote me, because then I'll have to deny it." She chuckled before sniffling through her stuffy nose. "And then I'd have to make fun of you – which, that's what our relationship is, right? I tease you and call you names for the fun of it and you let me? I piss you off and say smart-ass things that I never apologize for, you tolerate it... dare I say, enjoy it? And that's all we are. That's all we've ever been; friends who irritate the actual living hell out of each other... and occasionally save the world."

     She watched the surgeons whip out the other operating tools, and she could've sworn that she heard one of them say the words "Prep him" on the other side of the glass.

     She gulped and pressed onward with her speech. "But put all of that aside – and you will, because... you're you – and you'll never find another person who cares about you more than I do. That's the truth. That's the truth... and it scares me. Because that's not the way it's supposed to work. I'm not supposed to be willing to sacrifice everything for you and you're not supposed to want to protect me or make me feel important. Because love is for children, right? But here we are." She smiled lightheartedly, shaking her head, "And for the first time in what I remember as being forever... _I_ _don't think_ love is child's-play. It's so fantasized, it might as well be – but it's not. Because something's different now. Actually, a lot of things are different now..."

     She wanted to stop. She wanted to shove all her feelings back into the box they came from and leave the room – leave everything. But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to do that because she would never be able to forgive herself if she did. _You have to say this..._

     "They're different because I made a promise to myself and to you in D.C. a couple years ago. I promised that I would do everything in my power to protect you and keep you alive just as you had done for me..."

     She laughed, "I wish you could see yourself now." Suddenly, she crashed and felt warm tears flooding down her cheeks, "God, you're a mess. But you're the Avengers' mess – you're my mess... and I really, really need you to not quit on us. Because that would mean that I broke my promise to you... and I don't know if I could live with myself if that were the case. I'm sorry this happened to you – and I'm sorry that it's mostly my fault. But I need you to promise me something, because unlike me, you _always_ keep your promises. I know you do."

     Then she heard the continuous ringing noise from the monitor, and when she looked at it, the faint jagged green line was straightening out into a flat line... He was _flat lining_.

     "I need you to promise me that you won't die today." She forced out, admitting to herself that he could actually lose his life in a matter of seconds from right then.

     The doctors must've known that this was going to happen, because they had the defibrillators on stand-by. The main surgeon turned the AED on, applied the pads to his chest area, and gave it a second to analyze Steve's pulse.

     "Clear!" one of the doctors shouted, and Natasha watched Steve's upper body arch upwards in a tiny jump from the shock of the machine.

     The pattern on the monitor didn't change.

     Natasha's lips trembled as she tried to keep from crying, "I guess it's because I maybe, kind of love you. I don't know in what way, yet – which is another reason you can't die – but I do love you. I know I do."

     "Clear!"

     They pumped a shock into his heart a second time and waited... waited... waited...

     "So I need you to promise me that you'll live long enough for me to tell you that." She closed her eyes and another single tear streamed all the way down her left cheek and trickled down her neck onto her shirt. " _Please_..."

     There was silence.

     There was fear.

     And then there was a spike in the line on the monitor.


	18. Chapter 18

The waiting room was cold and unsettling in the silence amongst the group of five sitting quietly in their chairs; somehow blocking out the background noise of hospital beds and trays being pushed around throughout the hallways, Sam conversing with the woman at the front desk, and Clint informing Laura of the situation over the phone.

Scott sat to the left, occupying one out of the four empty chairs and across from him sat Bucky in a separate row just a small coffee table away. Their eyes were dull, much like the room, and neither seemed fazed by the nickel spinning by itself on top of the glass table.

Wanda sat in the single seat at the end and, distracted by her own thoughts, was absentmindedly using her powers to spin the shiny coin; ignoring the fact that they were still supposed to keep a low profile. They also didn't seem to mind the fact that little kids and their parents had gathered subtly to watch – or maybe the whispering was another thing they had managed to block out.

"Look mommy," one girl whispered in awe to her mother, "She's magic!"

The mother, seemingly unsettled by their presence, pushed gently but purposefully on the little girl's back, "Keep walking, hun." She wasn't the only one who didn't want her child near them. Others began to get up from their seats and move their kids away from them out of either respect or disgust.

One boy tugged on his dad's coat with one hand and pointed towards Wanda with the other, pleading, "Dad, can I get a picture with her?"

Wanda overheard the child's plead, raised her eyes from the floor, and the coin froze in midair. The dad stepped back with his son, not out of fear, but out of reason.

"Let's not bother them, Tyler." He whispered, bending down so his son could hear him, "I don't think it's a good time."

"Alright..." the boy shrugged, and then they were gone.

Meanwhile, Sam was at the front desk conversing with the woman who made the mistake of asking 'Sir, is there anything I can do to help?' The conversation started out strong, with Sam demanding she update him on Steve's condition, but now he was desperate; practically begging on his knees for something – _anything_ she could give him.

"You're sure there's no word you can give us on Steve Rogers?" He questioned; refusing to believe that after three hours of them being here, they still hadn't heard anything from the nurses.

"Sorry, I'm afraid not." The woman said softly with a tint of pity in her voice.

"There's no update or anything on his condition?" Sam asked, receiving a headshake 'No' from the woman, and held his breath. "Not even one?"

The woman sighed, feeling genuinely sorry for him and the others, and she shook her head. "Sir, I promise you that when I do get an update, I'll let you know first thing. But until then, there's really nothing I can do."

Sam lowered his eyes, tuning out the middle of her sentence until 'There's really nothing I can do' and he cut her off before she could say anymore, "No, I understand." His jaw tightened as he realized that he might not get to see his best friend again. He nodded to the woman, "Thank you," and slowly turned to leave.

"Stay strong." The woman called after him softly as he took his seat next to Bucky.

Natasha didn't feel like sitting with the rest of the team, who all reminded her too much of Steve. She sat in the seat next to the window, separated from the group, with her knees tucked lousily to her chest. Her eyes were dead; cold. She refused to speak – as did everyone else, of course – but Natasha wasn't sure she'd ever be able to speak again. Not after what she saw. Not after watching Steve die on the operating table as the doctors scrambled to bring him back to life. Not after the jolt of fear that she would never hear her name on Steve's lips again. Not _ever_.

She couldn't tell whether or not he was alive still. She watched him flat-line, but she had run out of the room in shock too soon to see and hear his heart rate return to the monitor. She had watched him die – but she hadn't watched him come back to life. But surely, if he was dead, the doctors would have entered the room with sadness plastered across their faces hours ago to inform her and the others of Steve's death. So why hadn't they?

 _I don't know what to do with this,_ she thought as her chest tightened with worry. _Please help me deal with this; with his death._

Bucky was watching her and had been for a while. He examined her from his seat; eyeing her up and down – desperately trying to read what she was feeling. And suddenly while doing so, he remembered something from his time as the Winter Soldier.

He had tried to kill her before – _twice_.

She had been with Steve on the bridge in D.C. two years ago when he had been sent to kill him under the orders of Alexander Pierce; the orders of Hydra. He chased her down – put a hole in her shoulder. That was the second time. The first was in Odessa in 2009. Hydra had sent him to take out an Iraqi scientist whose developments in nuclear engineering landed him on Hydra's radar in a negative way. Hydra saw him and his work as a threat, so they sent in The Winter Soldier to execute him. Natasha had been in the car when he shot out its tires _and_ its driver, sending the vehicle over a cliff. When the dust cleared, he put a bullet through the engineer as instructed – but not before putting that same bullet through Natasha and nearly killing her as she jumped to cover him.

He knew she was familiar from somewhere, but all this time he was unable to pinpoint the memory. And now that he could; now that he was looking at her as she broke down – he felt sorry for her. Not only had she been so close to Steve that it was killing her slowly to see and feel him dying, but all this time she had put aside the fact that his best friend had tried to murder her because her relationship with Steve meant that much to her. _Two times_ he had tried to kill her. Yet, she set that aside for Steve; probably continued to help him look for him after D.C.

 _Probably would've killed me then and there if it weren't for Steve,_ Bucky thought as he lowered his eyes, _I know I would have, if I were her._

He felt guilty, regretting the memory. But he shifted his eyes towards her – alone and fragile in the corner – considered that nobody else was going to say something soon, so he might as well, and got up from his chair.

He stood above her for a couple short moments, wondering if she would acknowledge his presence or avoid his eyes like she always had. _Definitely the second one,_ he thought, and carefully lowered himself into the seat next to hers; sighing.

Natasha blinked ahead, looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, and then quickly lowered her eyes back to the floor. She swallowed hard.

Bucky was taken aback. He could sense her hesitance. _She's afraid of me..._ he figured; surprised by his own realization. _I'm so sorry..._

"I'm sorry," he repeated out loud, "that this is happening to you."

Natasha closed her eyes as if refusing to hear anything he had to say and she sighed deeply; lowering her eyes as she opened them again. "It's happening to all of us." She said simply and quickly.

Bucky exhaled, debating whether or not to press onward. "I know, I just..." he choked slightly on his words as he desperately searched for the right way to phrase what he had to say, "but I just... I figured you needed somebody to tell you that."

Nope. _Definitely_ not the right way to phrase it.

Natasha sharply turned her face to look at him and she shook her head gently, "I don't want to be told 'sorry'..." She said flatly. "I don't want any of this."

Bucky smiled half-heartedly, "That makes two of us."

Natasha didn't shift her focus away from him. Her eyes were still locked coldly on his, as if she couldn't look away. She wasn't happy. She didn't want him here. Part of her wanted to scream at him and beat him to a pulp and tell him it was all his fault that they were even in this situation – which wasn't entirely false. But she knew if Steve wouldn't have wanted that while he was alive, he certainly wouldn't have wanted it if he were dead.

She was about to turn her head from him, afraid she might do something unforgiveable to him if she didn't, but then he mumbled, "I don't want him to die."

She kept her eyes on him dully. "You think he will?" She asked, her voice drained of emotion.

"I didn't say that." He corrected. But then he paused for a moment to consider it. He sighed and looked down at the floor, "Or maybe I just don't want to believe that he will."

"That makes two of us." Natasha mimicked. Bucky glanced up to see a small smile form across her lips. Or maybe it was a half-smirk. He wasn't quite able to tell the difference. He laughed softly, gaining confidence next to her. She didn't look like she wanted to rip his head off anymore... or perhaps she was just really good at hiding it when it was necessary.

She shifted in her chair. "You and Steve..." she started, "you were really close, weren't you?"

Bucky gave her a look.

Realizing how dumb the question sounded, she tried to redeem herself, "I mean obviously you were, but how did..." she trailed off; not quite sure where she was trying to go with the conversation. After receiving a chuckle from Bucky, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. "What was he like?" She asked. " _Before_ the war; _before_ Captain America?"

Bucky took a moment to ponder on the question. "He was something. He really was. He was ninety-eight pounds of pale skin, fragile bone, and serious hay fever."

"I guess some things never change." She smirked.

"I guess not." He returned. "He might not have had the muscles or the shield, but he was always somehow the strongest person that I knew – that I still know. He never backed out of a fight... even if the fight was three times his size and had really bad breath."

Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed softly, "Like I said: some things never change."

"And they didn't – _he_ didn't. I mean, take away the uniform and the bulk and he's still the same person he was seventy-six years ago."

"I take it he's always been the golden-boy?"

"Kind of. If the war hadn't got in his way, and I hadn't put the idea of joining the army in his brain, he might've settled down with a nice girl and maybe even started a family like I hoped he would."

Natasha's face sunk. _Right_ , she thought, _family_... "He wanted that?"

"Family? Absolutely. He would've gotten it, too, if it weren't for being Captain America and all."

"Uh huh..."

"Whether or not it's still on his agenda is questionable, but it would be nice to see him finally win a girl over."

"He's won over plenty of girls. And boys, I might add."

"That doesn't mean that plenty of girls have won over him."

Natasha lowered her eyes.

Bucky knew what she was thinking, and that he would probably get bit for what he was about to say, but he risked it. "I mean, you're probably up there somewhere–"

"Don't you dare." She napped.

"I won't. Sorry." He apologized quickly.

"Thank you." She said, annoyed by his comment, especially considering that if what he said were true, his comments wouldn't matter anything at all if Steve died today. Or tomorrow. Or whenever he damn well would.

There was a long pause.

Bucky held his breath again and brought it back up. "But why not?"

"You're treading on _thin_ ice."

"I've been on thin ice since I tried to kill you 2 years ago – I've learned to tip-toe." He slipped. She shot him a look. _I didn't know you even remembered that..._ she thought.

"Now, if there's even the slightest will at the bottom of your heart that can make you answer my question..." He tempted.

"I promise you: there's not."

"I don't believe you"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I care about _him_." He confessed, causing Natasha's hard expression to soften. "I want him to be happy."

Natasha shook her head, "And what's to say he'd be happy with me?"

"What's to say he wouldn't?" He argued.

"I asked you first."

"You asked me something that I can't answer. Only Steve can."

She stood her ground, "I..." she stuttered, scrambling to find the words, "Shit."

"You know I'm right." He bragged.

"And it scares me." She said truly. Bucky looked at her, expecting to see another sarcastic smirk across her lips, but she found her with her brow furrowed and her eyes drowned with worry.

"Don't let it," he offered. "Save that fear for something that calls for it."

She sighed.

They wallowed in the silence for the next half hour; unsure of what else to say to each other, seeing as Steve was the only thing they shared in common. Then Bucky acknowledged that and he spoke up, "Natasha?"

"Hmm?"

He exhaled and turned his chair towards her so that his whole body was facing her direction. "Did he make it okay on his own?"

Natasha pursed her lips, "Elaborate."

"When he came out of the ice; when he was adopted by SHIELD... did he manage to get by without someone watching over him?"

Natasha almost laughed, "He's a grown man, Barnes – he's literally a senior citizen if we're being technical. He got by just fine." She assured him as convincingly as she could before adding, "and he wasn't on his own."

"Who was with him?"

"Obviously Nick Fury, um–"

"Who?"

They shared a confused look before Natasha realized, "Oh that's right – you haven't met Fury yet. In that case, never mind."

Bucky looked at her with wide eyes; scared to death that 'Nick Fury' was someone Natasha had made up off the top of her head and that Steve had actually been on his own for a while.

Natasha flailed her hands, "Come on, he had the Avengers... he had me."

"Good." Bucky interrupted her.

"Good that he had people?"

"Good that he had _you_."

Natasha sat back and raised her eyebrow, "Sorry?"

"Every time I've seen him since he came out of the ice – starting with Washington two years ago – I've also seen you at his side. It seems like the other people you talked about have come and gone, but you've stayed with him. For that, I'm grateful." Bucky expressed genuinely.

Natasha narrowed her eyes in confusion, "Grateful?"

Bucky sighed, took his 'thank you' speech, and dumbed-it-down (a phrase he never thought he'd use when referring to the Black Widow) for her to understand. "Thank you for taking care of him – when I couldn't be there to..." He met her eyes, "He's very lucky to have you."

Natasha shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words, "I'm, it's not – you're being–"

"Don't object," he objected, sticking his hand in front of her face and pointing to the other Avengers. "I've got eye-witnesses. Take a leap of faith for once. You might be surprised."

Natasha looked away and thought about it – the idea of Natasha and Steve; Steve and Natasha. A cliché. She thought about the life she could have with him when he woke up...

Then she remembered where they were... and _why_ they were there.

She whispered fragilely to Bucky, "Do you think the serum is strong enough to get him through this?"

He hesitated, caught off guard by the question. "I'm not sure. I think it'll get him somewhere."

She gulped, "Do you think _he's_ strong enough?"

Suddenly Bucky grew uncomfortable and upset with her questions. He snapped at her, "Why does it matter what I think? I can't predict the future."

Natasha leaned back – surprised by Bucky's sudden change of tone. She stuttered, "I know, I just..."

"What?"

"Never mind. Thank you for the insight." She dropped it. She couldn't even remember why she was talking to him in the first place.

"You know what he'd always say to me?" He started. She glanced up at him, letting him know she was listening. "He'd say, _"It's not about the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.""_

"Poetry at its finest."

"You know what I'd say back? I'd say, _"Then buddy, you've got one hell of a victory ahead of you."_ And I still stand by that statement. So maybe I can't predict the future and maybe I don't want to – but if there's one thing I can guarantee you, it's that Steve won't go down without a fight. And by God, if it is about the size of the fight in the dog... death won't stand a chance against him."

Natasha exhaled. She couldn't tell if she were moved by what he had said or if she were intimidated by it. _Death won't stand a chance..._ she closed her eyes, _then you don't know death like I do._

"You know I wish I could believe that. I really do. But from what I've experienced – which is a lot... death wins _every time_." She said, and they were nose to nose. Bucky could sense that she was holding back tears.

As if on cue, a doctor walked into the room – causing all the heads to turn frantically to look at him. Natasha tried to get a read on him, but his face showed no emotion. Not until he opened his mouth to speak, that is.

He smiled, "There's someone who wants to see you all."

All the breaths being held in the room were released in relief and Natasha covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

Bucky nodded his head with relief and he glanced at Natasha and questioned, "Every time?"


	19. Chapter 19

"He lives!" Clint teased, throwing his hands up in the air as he and the others entered the hospital room to see a very battered, but breathing, Steve.

They crowded around the end of his bed, eagerly waiting to hear him talk for the first time since being shot at the prison. His lips curved upward in a sarcastic smile and forced out a small laugh, "Surprise."

His voice was raspy. His tiny breaths shook with every inhale and exhale; the faint pain that came with every breath gnawed at his lungs – causing him to cough unwillingly and wince as he swallowed. He was uncomfortable; the surrounding of his teammates made it far worse than he imagined. Though they had seen him beaten pretty badly before, this was different. It was like he could sense the pity in their stares – the way they hovered above him with sorry looks; the way they exchanged looks with one another after eyeing him up and down. He didn't like that feeling... not even from them.

But he also didn't want them to leave. It was weird. It was two completely contrasting wants. He wanted them at his side in the exact same way he didn't even want them to look at him. He wasn't sure why this was, but he didn't enjoy not being able to see things clearly. All he knew for certain was one thing.

He wanted to go home.

"That's a relief," Scott broke the silence with a nervous laugh, "Not gonna lie, I already had your funeral planned out."

Wanda, who was standing next to Scott, shot him an icy glare and dug her elbow hard into his side. He winced at the contact and folded over in pain, "It was a _joke_!" He moaned through his teeth.

" _Funny_ ; jokes are supposed to be _funny_." She pulled gently on his shoulder to straighten him up.

Steve laughed, with his voice still raspy, "It's alright, Wanda." He adjusted himself in his bed but grunted at the sudden movement. The nurse in the corner rushed over to his side to steady him as he sat up straight, exhaling as the pain went faded from his muscles.

Wanda rubbed the side of her arm and lowered her eyes. "We were worried about you."

"You took a bad hit, man." Sam emphasized.

"Did I? I almost forgot in the ten minutes I've been awake." Steve said sarcastically.

"I'll be honest, I did not think you were gonna make it." Scott laughed, receiving another threatening look from Wanda. He shielded his face with his hands "Please don't hit me!"

Bucky shook his head in agreement with Scott, "None of us did."

Steve rolled his eyes teasingly, trying to avoid the negative. "Well thanks for the positivity, you guys."

There was a short silence. Everyone in the room exchanged a look, unknowing of what to say. Wanda rocked back and forth on her heels with her lips pursed – a sign that she was uncomfortable. Then again, everyone in the room was. Clint blew an air bubble in his mouth and popped it slowly, looking nervously around the room as he waited for someone to say something. Steve sighed and lowered his eyes. _So this is what it's come to. Nobody knows how to talk to nobody anymore._

Then Sam turned to the back of the room. "Natasha, you're being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal." He mocked, hoping to get a lighthearted, or at least slightly sarcastic reaction from her, as she had said the same thing to Tony the last time they were all together _peacefully_ in a group setting.

But he got nothing. Nothing except an alarmed glance from her – a sign that he had just interrupted her thoughts – and then a slow shift of her eyes to Steve in his bed.

Steve met her gaze, and suddenly, that half-feeling of not wanting to see any of them vanished completely.

He searched for something, some sort of visible emotion in her eyes, but he couldn't find one. She looked like she was in some form of shock – which was most likely true, but he just wanted her to say something – something other than the other rephrased ways of saying "I can't believe you're not dead!"

But he got the same thing from her. "You're alive..." she muttered, her voice soft and her eyes now thick with relief and sorry.

"I'll be damned, right?" He remarked. His lips quivered into a soft smile. Hers did not.

At this point, Clint had gestured the others quietly out of the room so that Natasha could have her moment to talk with Steve in the privacy of an empty room. She hadn't told him directly how she felt for Steve, but he could guess. It was quite obvious to Clint, actually, and had been for a while. He knew that anything she could possibly want to say to Steve wasn't anything she'd want to share whole group.

The nurse began to follow them out, and stopped at the door to look at the two left alone in the room. "I'll be right outside the door – holler if you need me." She half smiled. Steve nodded. Then the door closed.

Natasha looked at him, smiled lightly, and whispered "Hey," as she walked to meet the edge of his bed from the side.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"A few hours..." She lowered her eyes and twiddled with her hands, "Your heart stopped."

"Sorry."

Natasha looked back up at him and rolled her eyes, "Only you would apologize for dying."

"Did everyone make it out safely?" He swallowed, hoping the answer would be yes.

Natasha quirked her brow and stepped closer to the bed, lowering herself into the nurse's chair beside him. "You tell me. You just saw them, didn't you?"

"I don't know... they were a little blurry from far away..." he said, only half teasing.

Natasha smirked, sitting forward in her chair and answering his question, "Everyone was fine, thanks to Wanda." _With the exception of you._

"Wanda saved us?"

"You'd be dead if she hadn't."

Steve sat back, "Then I guess I'll have to thank her when I get out of here."

"The doctors say you should be able to walk again between now and tomorrow – maybe even within the next couple hours. Until then they said it's best that you get some rest." Natasha mentioned, changing the subject.

"I just woke up."

"Yes, but I'd hardly call what you just went through "resting.""

"I don't want to rest." He paused, "I can't close my eyes, Nat. I'm afraid I'll never open them again."

She sighed, "I know the feeling."

"I know you do."

There was silence.

"I gotta know," he started, "While I was being... rose from the dead, per say – what were you doing?"

Natasha laughed, knowing that he would have asked that question one way or another. "Clint was on the phone with Laura and you were being cut open. I was forced to talk with somebody else. He had some very interesting pre-serum-you stories, which by the way – very impressive people skills for a guy who tried to murder us a couple years ago."

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing she meant Bucky. "He's not so bad."

"No he isn't." She admitted, "But I would've much rather sat and talked with you."

"Well, seeing as I'm awake now..."

"Awake now..." she trailed off.

"Natasha,"

"' _Natasha_ ,' what? ' _Natasha, I'm fine?_ '" She shook her head, making a mockery of what he could've said to help stop herself from losing it.

"I am fine." He objected.

"Is that right?" She asked coldly. "Do me a favor, please: just try to sit up on your own right now."

Steve looked at her and sighed. He turned his head away from her, knowing she was right in terms of physical health.

She shook her head, "I think you and I have very different ideas of 'fine'."

"Don't do this."

"Do what? Lay it out the way it is? You were DEAD, Steve! You died!" She raised her voice, shaking as she said the word "dead".

"Stop it, Natasha!" He matched her volume, causing her to lean back slightly in her chair. "Please! Okay? I know it was scary but it's over, alright? I'm breathing now."

Natasha raised her eyebrows, "So now 'breathing' is the equivalent to 'fine'?"

"You know it always has been for me."

She shook her head and looked away, "Jesus, Steve..." she wined; pleading, "that's not good. I know how low the bar falls for your standards of 'okay', but you've got to understand that this... this wasn't okay. I mean just imagine what could've happened; what _would've_ happened, if Wanda wasn't able to save us in time-"

"So now you're doubting Wanda's abilities?"

"I've doubted _everything_ since they shot you." She admitted; her brows furrowed in sorrow and frustration. "Picture it, Steve. Picture yourself dead on the operating table. Picture the surgeon walking into the waiting room with his cap in his hand. Visualize our faces when he tells us that they couldn't save you."

"Stop."

"That very well could have been the case."

"But it wasn't."

"But it could've been." She shook her head, "And I'm not sure how I would've lived with myself if that happened."

Steve looked at her, "Natasha, this had _nothing_ to do with you."

"It did, though." She bit her lip and closed her eyes, inching her fingers towards his and taking his hand in her own. "I made a promise to you... to protect you..." Her eyes watered, "That's a promise I don't think I can keep anymore."

Steve looked down at his hand being covered by hers, and placed his free hand on top. He sighed, "I know you think it's your job to take care of me, just like I think it's mine to take care of you... but you'll never be able to guarantee my safety. You never could. And that's gonna have to be okay with you." He took a moment to study her face, watching her features twist into relaxation slowly, "You don't owe me anything, Nat."

"I owe you everything." She corrected; her voice frail as one had ever heard. Steve lowered his eyes.

"You don't." He insisted.

"Then why do I _feel_ like I do?"

He almost chuckled, "The same reason I feel like I owe it to you, I guess... When you spend your whole life saving the world..." his eyes wandered back to hers, "We just come by it naturally. The feeling's normal."

 _Normal_ , she thought. _Normal?_

He felt as if he owed her as well? _How could that be possible?_

He'd saved for life many more times than she had saved his – that was a debt she'd never be able to repay. But he wasn't the only friend she had that risked their life to save hers – Thor had, when the Hulk was preparing to attack her on the helicarrier; T'Challa had, when The Winter Soldier had her in a chokehold at the Compound; Tony had multiple times, Wanda had, pretty much everyone she knew had – but she didn't feel any kind of weight pressing for her to repay them. That weight only came with Steve.

Maybe a big part of that was because she felt something for him that she didn't feel for any of the others; some strange combination of appreciation and admiration that she hadn't felt with anybody she'd ever known before, quite honestly. _Say the word_ , she thought... _love_.

It was a new concept for her. And she hated and loved it at the same time. It was a feeling that she couldn't seem to shake – the feeling of letting him know that she understood the debt she had left to be repaid, and him refusing to accept any of it. He trusted her, she trusted him – and it was as simple as that.

Her face warmed. She grinded her teeth together as she felt her lips quivering, preparing to give way as she would let go any moment. Her vision was clouded by a glossy sheen of tears as they filled her eyes. She whispered tenuously, "I thought you were gonna die."

Steve's features sank as he watched a tear trickle down the side of her face and down her neck. This was Natasha. This was the side of Natasha that nobody else got to see – her weak side; her most vulnerable state – the Natasha that rarely surfaced.

This was _his_ Natasha.

And at that moment – he saw how she truly felt for him, beneath the rock-solid shell that kept it hidden. He saw her love for him... the love that he returned for her.

He flashed a broken smile at her. His eyes rolled as he chuckled, "You thought."

Natasha laughed through her soft flow of tears, "I did..." she bit her lip, "But I guess I was wro..." her voice trailed off as she stopped herself; looking away.

Steve's eyes widened, "Say it..."

"No."

"I need to hear you say it. Go on: 'I was...'"

She rolled her eyes, "I was not right."

He looked at her. " _Wrong_ is the word I believe you're looking for. But I'll take it."

They both smiled. There was a moment of pause as she looked at him with still watery eyes, and she got up from her seat. In a swift movement, her arms were locked around his upper body as she hugged him. He was caught off guard, but it was only a split second before he wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Her head rested on his shoulder as she tried hard not to hurt him, but for the moment he felt no pain. For the moment – they both felt safe.

When she broke the hug, she sat back on the edge of the bed and took a moment to recollect everything they'd been through up until that point. In summary, they had been through hell and high water but it always managed to come full circle, one way or the other. She knew this would too. And so did he.

"We'll get to go back home." She promised, wiping away all fear that she couldn't keep it as she knew she would do everything in her power this time to ensure that it would stay true.

He looked at her, and saw so much of what he'd already known: selflessness, honesty, compassion... and he murmured, "I'm already home."

Before she had even the slightest sliver of time to take in his words, the peacefulness of their empty room was interrupted by a thunderous clash of panicked cries and voices from behind the door. Both their heads whipped around to face it in alarm.

"What is that?" Steve asked; his eyes wandering in apprehension and beginning to steady himself upright, despite the sharp pain he felt when doing so.

Natasha's eyes remained locked on the door, "I don't know – stay here. I'll be right back."

She got up from her chair and raced outside. She was almost swept by a crowd of patients and alarmed hospital workers fleeing from the direction of the waiting room. Her eyes followed where they were heading and she caught sight of an exit door, just before it was trampled open. She walked the opposite direction as everybody else and peered around the corner to see just what they were running from.

As if she even needed to. As if she didn't already know what awaited her on the other side. As if she needed to see the swarm of Ross' men in black hurdling at the rest of the team to know that that was what was happening.

Her breath was taken from her lungs as she didn't even bother to help them; as she flung herself back around the corner to get to Steve's room.

"Get up!" She ordered him as she raced to help him out of the bed, "Get up! We have to go!"

He winced in pain as she stood him up on his feet before collapsing over her to study himself, "Go where!? What's wrong!?"

Out of breath, she warned, "It's Ross. They found us. Again."


	20. Chapter 20

The hospital transformed into what could only be compared to as a busy highway overwhelmed with traffic. Patients and their families were scrambling here and there as the doctors and nurses desperately tried to guide them, tripping over each other to get to the exits as chaos broke out.

A sea of men dressed in black gear, Ross' men, had crashed through the glass double doors moments before and stomped into the heavily crowded waiting room with their minds locked on finding Steve Rogers and his team of fugitives.

The bystanders heard the clicking of their weapons signifying that they were fully loaded and didn't waste a second before bolting towards safety – and no bullets had even been fired yet nor were they planned to be. Ross needed them alive.

By that point, the team was alert and up on their feet. Most of the hospital's occupants had already fled the room and punches were being thrown about one another while Wanda used her powers to her advantage, fighting off any scumbag who came at her as best as she could.

In a few rooms down, Natasha had managed to get Steve to his feet as quickly as she could. She was strong, but she had tried to lift him by herself many times before and couldn't. He was heavy. Most of that weight he carried was muscle, of course, as his body fat percentage was very slim. Natasha was built that way too – years as an agent had been quite kind to her in terms of body size, however, a hundred-twenty-five pound body standing at five feet and four inches wasn't too good for lifting someone twice that size.

They limped towards the door, both struggling to stay up for different reasons, and tossed it open to reveal a crowd of people rushing past to what Natasha guessed were the exits around the corner. They pushed their way through the crowd. Natasha turned her head to catch a glimpse of her teammates hand to hand with Ross' men, and made eye contact with one of the men in black.

The man did a double take and his eyes widened. A sly smile formed across his face as he announced to the others, "There's Romanoff!"

A swarm of faces turned to look at her as she stumbled back with Steve still on her arm. Another one of Ross' men spoke, "She's got Roger's with her!"

They raised their weapons to the two of them, and for a moment Natasha doubted they would shoot, but it wasn't until a bullet fired and instead of hitting either one of them – it collided into what looked like red tinted glass from both sides.

Wanda, quick to think, had focused her powers onto generating another protective barrier between Steve and Natasha and all of Ross' men on the other side only a split second after their guns were pointed in their direction. The two men looked helplessly around the room, caught off guard by barrier.

"Cover me!" Wanda yelled to the rest of her team as she concentrated hard on keeping the barrier up long enough for Natasha to escape with Steve. The team didn't hesitate at her command. They rushed over to her side and formed a half-circle around her to prevent her from getting hurt. Wanda would be everyone's target if they wanted any chance at capturing Steve and Natasha – the only thing standing between the two of them and Ross' men was Wanda and her abilities.

Meanwhile, as the fighting continued in attempts to destroy the barrier, Steve and Natasha had escaped down the hall and gotten lost in the crowd and were now a decent length out of the enemy's eyesight. So long as Wanda could keep the barrier up, they could escape. They could only hope that she wouldn't get herself or any other member of the team killed in the process.

As they limped down the hall with the crowd, which was now fairly small compared to the rush before, Natasha caught a sight of a door to a closet labeled 'Storage' to her right. She quickly made her way towards it, dragging Steve behind her, and vigorously twisted the knob – hoping it was unlocked. The door popped open to a crescent and Natasha gasped with relief.

"Get in here!" Natasha ordered, tossing Steve into the room and slamming the door shut behind her. Steve moaned on the floor, as Natasha had thrown him hard on his tailbone, and he struggled to lift himself up off the white tile.

Natasha began shoving anything moveable against the door to ensure that nobody from the outside could enter the closet. Weak, Steve tried desperately to help her from the floor, as he could barely stay upright. He grabbed hold of the closest thing he could find – a steel utility cart – and he used all of his remaining strength to give it a shove. Natasha caught the cart in motion and pushed it up against the door before grabbing as many boxes as she could – which were all filled to the top with medical garments or supplies, along with metal fold-up chairs for extra protection.

Natasha slammed her back to the door as she slid down to the floor, resting her head against the wooden frame and locking her hands around her knee caps. Steve grabbed hold of one of the levels on the metal shelves and lowered himself slowly to the floor, groaning in pain as he did so. He leaned his head up against one of the plastic bins and closed his eyes – hoping he could shut his mind down before he heard more sounds of bystanders screaming and guns being fired.

Clint threw a right hook to one of the men's nose, sending him stumbling backwards before collapsing unconscious as Clint landed a final punch to his temple. At the same time, Sam was throwing fists with another one of Ross' men – whom was much larger than he was, but fought like he was half his size.

Scott and Bucky covered Wanda as she held up the barrier, landing gruesome blows to the remaining men who came at them. Bucky grabbed a man from the back of his head and brought his face down hard against his knee cap – once, twice, before tossing him across the room with his metal arm.

One of the men, however, lingered in the back of the room further away from the combat – communicating through his earpiece to the others troops. "We've located the fugitives; five in here, Rogers and Romanoff are outside with the crowd – call in the choppers for a search party and don't stop the search you see their faces-"

His order was interrupted by Sam, who kicked him up right upside the head from underneath his chin, causing his earpiece to fall to the ground as he tried to recover from the blow. Sam threw a punch, but the man dodged it in a swift movement and sank his fist into Sam's stomach – once, twice, three times until Sam turned out of it and threw his arms around the man in a chokehold. The man gasped for air as the grip around his neck was tightened and he clawed at Sam's arms for release.

"You won't find them," Sam told him, trying to keep him from escaping his grasp. He hoped that the man would give out any moment now, but instead he grew a devilish grin.

"We won't have to." He said through his teeth.

Confused, Sam loosened his absentmindedly loosened his grip around the man's neck – and it wasn't until he pulled his free hand from his pocket to reveal a grenade that Sam wished he had twisted his neck when he had the chance.

The man wiggled out of Sam's reach and shouted to his squad, "Secure your masks!" And he pressed the detonator. Moments later, the grenade went off.

Only it wasn't a grenade. It was sleeping gas.

The Avengers covered their noses and mouths with their shirts, hoping that it was enough to block out the gas – but it made no difference. The gas traveled throughout the room and would eventually spread through the rest of the building. It was only a matter of seconds before their senses blurred and they each began to drop one by one to the floor. Wanda, who was barely keeping the barrier up, suddenly lost focus. Her eyes began to water and her face turned red until finally she couldn't hold off any longer. She exhaled, giving into her surroundings and into Ross' scheme and as she collapsed – the red glow blocking the men's path collapsed too.

Just outside the building, where all the panicked hospital occupants had escaped to, the chaos had not died down. Injured patients checked into the hospital were frightened, and they kept close to their families and the staff in the grass. Little kids – children – were crying in fear from the sudden outburst that forced them out of the building, and they clung to their parents who recited the usual, " _It's okay – there's nothing to be afraid of_ " line. Doctors and nurses were on their cellphones with their families at home alerting them of what happened and why they might not be home in time for dinner.

Helicopters were circling the crowd; using their facial recognition scanners to pinpoint Steve and Natasha from the masses. Nothing.

A fourth man of Ross', who was part of the assigned airborne squadron, spoke to the crowd from the chopper's built-in bullhorn. "We need everyone to remain calm. We mean no harm to any hospital staff, patients, or their families. You will all be cleared to return inside momentarily. Thank you." His voice was deep and emotionless – almost robotic, but hidden behind that voice was impatience and anger.

The facial recognition system's screening device flashed red and beeped negatively at the man in control. Still, nothing.

"Any luck?" The fourth man asked, despite already knowing the answer.

The man at the control panel shook his head, "Nothing. The facial recognitions are showing up negative."

"Check again."

"Smith,"

"Keep scanning!" He ordered with frustration. They had to be there somewhere. And he wasn't going to stop until he found them.

A voice echoed into his earpiece – it was Dan, Ross' goon who set off the gas bomb inside the building. "Do you have eyes on the targets? Over."

Smith brought his hand to his earpiece. "Negative. Over."

"Impossible. Have you scanned for facial recognition?"

"We scanned. No recognition confirmed."

"Well, keep looking!" Dan demanded, irritated at the system's failure to detect Steve and Natasha in the crowd. "They couldn't have gotten far!"

Smith inhaled calmly, "I assume you've gained control over the other Avengers?"

"Affirmative."

"Then _this_ shouldn't be a problem." He said as a reminder, trying to keep his voice at a steady volume to conceal his frustration with the man on the other end of the receiver.

It was silent for a short moment, and then there was a sharp exhale from Dan's end, "Keep looking," he huffed and turned off his earpiece; ending the conversation.

He turned around to face the rest of his squad inside the building, who had the other Avengers dangling in their arms waiting for instruction. One man, about twenty-three years of age and only slightly skinny-looking compared to the other bulky soldiers, raised his hand.

"What do we do with them?" He asked, in reference to the unconscious superheroes.

Dan faced him before addressing the others who had swooped them from the floor, "Take them out to the back. Wait for the chopper to circle back around." They all nodded and Dan turned to the remaining men.

"Everybody else will search the crowd. We'll all meet up halfway." There was a pause, and Dan took a good look around the room as his squad nodded their heads in understanding. He licked his dry lips and gave the OK... "Move out."

Almost half an hour had passed, and Steve and Natasha were still sitting motionless in the storage closet. Neither of them had spoken since blocking the door; too afraid that they would get caught if anybody heard a sound coming from the room.

The room was very small – even with the absence of the metal carts and boxes from the center. There was hardly much space to do anything other than sit; not that they had any intention of doing otherwise, and it was very difficult to shift drastically without bumping into something or knocking something over – which they had definitely tried to avoid by sitting in the silence.

But in the silence, Natasha couldn't help but notice Steve's ragged breathing in the corner.

She glanced over at him, _really_ taking her time to look at him since entering the closet, and she noticed the way he was sitting. His lower body was sprawled out; taking up what little room was available for him. His upper body was being propped up by his left forearm, while his head was leaned back against a plastic bin, and his right hand was twitching as it clutched his lower abdomen. The closer Natasha looked; she could see that most of that hand was coated with blood.

Her brow furrowed with concerned, "Are you bleeding again?"

Steve looked at her with weak eyes and he swallowed hard before forcing out a raspy sentence. "I think the stitches popped," He told her, struggle to get the words out and wincing in pain as he shifted slightly on his elbow.

Natasha pressed her knuckles to her mouth. _He's getting worse_ , she thought. "We need to get you back to your room; hook you back up to the monitors."

"And fix the stitching," He added on.

Then the doorknob began twisting back and forth viciously as if someone were trying to open it from the outside. Their attention snapped towards the door, and out of habit, Natasha lurched away from it and dragged Steve behind one of the shelves as gently as she could. He tensed at her touch. She was hurting him.

"I'm sorry!" She whispered quietly, trying to keep her volume low. He waved her off and leaned back against the wall behind the metal shelf.

The twisting continued and Natasha slowly pulled her gun out from her back pocket – pointing it directly at the knob. Whichever one of Ross' men was trying to get in wouldn't make it very far inside if Natasha could get a clear shot at his hand and thigh, which is what she planned to do.

She heard sounds of metal clinging together – like keys on a keychain. _Wait, what?_ She thought... The door twisted again, but this time she saw the lock being twisted open. _They've got a key...?_

Before she really had the chance to think about it, the door was flung open – causing all of the metal chairs and boxes they had pressed against it to collapse towards the person behind it. Natasha loaded her gun and froze, ready to fire as soon as she saw her shot.

But instead of meeting the eyes of a man in black, she met the eyes of a woman in white. It wasn't one of Ross' men, it was just a nurse. _That explains the key..._ Natasha thought.

Natasha half-expected the nurse to scream in sight of the gun being pointed at her and run for help, but instead the woman blinked frantically – taking a step back. She raised her hands over her head, followed by her eyebrow being raised like one does when they're judging another person. She eyed Natasha, and then eyed the gun, and Natasha lowered it with an exhale of relief.

"Are they gone?" She asked – now feeling bad that she had just threatened an innocent nurse with a gun to her face.

"They're gone." The nurse confirmed.

"Are the other staff and patients safe?" Steve asked from behind the shelf, now leaning slightly towards the side to see enough of what was happening.

"Everyone's back in their rooms."

Steve and Natasha shared a look and exhaled in unison. For a moment, they almost relaxed. Almost.

"Is there anything I can do to help you two?" The nurse asked, ringing her hands in concern.

Natasha shot her a glance, eyeing her up and down. "You want to help us?" She asked with disbelief.

The woman rolled her eyes slightly and met Natasha's eyes with sincerity, "I'm a _nurse_ , Miss Romanoff. Helping people is my job."

Natasha lowered her eyes, taking in a few deep breaths, nodding, and looking at the nurse with gratitude. "Thank you..." She turned back to look at Steve before quickly rushing to his side to help him up. Once again, he groaned in pain. She winced, feeling guilty.

She looked back up at the nurse as she gave up on trying to help him to his feet – figuring it might be best if she left the care-giving to the professional. "He was shot earlier in the day... We brought him in and they patched him up but I think his stitches burst." She explained.

The nurse nodded and made a gesture with her hands, "Well come out of the closet and we'll get him into a room. I'll re-stitch him myself."

Natasha looked down at Steve, awaiting his approval. He didn't look back up at her, though, he kept his focus on the nurse and began, "I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think we could stay here just for a little while?"

"Just until he can walk?" Natasha added; her voice high-pitched with hope and need – as it always was when she was begging... even if it were something she rarely did.

The nurse half-laughed. "As long as you keep that gun away from my face, you're welcome to stay for as long as you'd like."


	21. Chapter 21

"I don't get it," Steve confessed from his hospital bed. His gown was cut open from his waist down to his hip on his left side and he sat leaned back while the nurse was hard at work mending his stitches. All but one stitch had burst open in he and Natasha's hurry to escape the gunfire, and the nurse had to remove and replace the thread completely in order to clean and re-patch the wound. He said he couldn't feel the tiny pinpricks of pain under his injection of lidocaine, but Natasha still winced every time she watched the stitches pierce his skin.

"You said we were long since out of their reach when Wanda dropped the barrier. There's no way they could have followed us."

Natasha chewed on her nails, "Maybe they didn't follow us..." she suggested; thinking back to their hours wasted beforehand. "In the waiting room, families were looking at us like we were these... monsters. And Wanda; she was using her powers to spin a nickel on the table. I guess that must've freaking a couple parents out."

"Maybe one of them called the authorities?"

"Or maybe Ross traced Maria's call."

Steve sighed. It didn't make any sense. No matter what their situation was, Ross always seemed to be one step ahead of them – often in ways that they couldn't break down enough to understand how it was possible. And it was infuriating on so many levels.

The nurse paused mid-stitch and sighed, "They have your friends, don't they?"

Steve looked across the room at Natasha, who didn't return his gaze, but froze in her seat. She lowered her eyes and painfully, she nodded, "Yeah." She swallowed, "Yeah, they have our friends... I guess that makes two for two now? Three, for Wanda?"

Steve's eyes lowered to the floor as Natasha exhaled, "Well, something like that..." Their entire team was in the hands of the bad guys for the third time because of them... and it killed Natasha more than she was willing to show.

Off guard, the nurse injected Steve in his hip with a syringe. He flinched at first, taken aback by the sudden pressure from the needle, and he looked at her. "What is that?"

The nurse stayed concentrated on the syringe. "I'm giving you some Benadryl. Lots of it, actually. You should start to feel sleepy in a couple of minutes; this'll help you get some rest before it's time to put some food into your system. Are you hungry at all now?"

"No."

The nurse chuckled and widened her eyes, "You will be."

Moving on from her comment, Steve flipped his attention back to Natasha – who was sitting in a plastic chair at the foot of his bed. "You know we're gonna have to go back for them."

Natasha met his eyes, "We always do, but they're not my priority right now – you are."

"Natasha, I'm–"

"Don't–" Natasha squinted her eyes shut and flashed her teeth, "–Don't say the word. I'm gonna go get a water," She said, using her thumb to point behind her to the door. "Do you want one?"

"It's best for him to avoid fluids after a Benadryl shot; makes it easier for the patient to relax that way." The nurse chimed in before Steve could give the wrong answer.

"O-K," Natasha said awkwardly, "I will... be right back."

And then she left the room, closing the door softly behind her and pacing away quickly as she could to the vending machine. For some reason, the whole environment made her feel awkward and out of place. She had never been very good in social settings with people she had never met before. She didn't feel comfortable talking about the problem to Steve while the nurse was present, despite her welcoming hospitality. And when she got nervous, she got parched. Quite honestly, she didn't even know if they had a vending machine in the hospital – which is probably why she got an awkward look from the nurse when she announced she was going to get a water from one. But all hospitals had vending machines, right?

Well, at least this one did – thankfully. She approached it, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a couple bucks, and fed her dollar bill into the mouth of the machine. She pressed her finger to the circular button to select a bottle of water and waited for the machine to spit it out at the bottom, but it never did. She pressed it again and still – no water bottle.

 _I do not have the patience for this... just give me my damn drink,_ she thought as she repeatedly punched the button over and over again. Another thing she does when she gets nervous? She gets fidgety – and impatient. And those two traits did not mix well together.

"Sometimes you have to hold the button down longer." A voice said from behind her. Natasha didn't even look to see who it was – nor did she care to know. She held her finger down over the selection icon for a moment longer than before, and out came her bottle of water at the bottom of the machine. She bent down to pick it up and saw that the voice from behind her came from Steve's nurse. _Great_.

"Thank you," Natasha said; embarrassed.

She twisted the cap off of the bottle and sat herself down in one of the seats next to the machine while taking a large gulp. The nurse sighed and sat down in the chair across from her. Natasha avoided eye contact, ignoring the fact that the woman was right in front of her face watching her drink.

"That serum of his is something special..." The nurse said, breaking the silence, "He barely needed new stitching; the wound almost healed itself completely in that short time. If he stays in bed and doesn't try to force any unnecessary pressure onto it, he should be able to walk by early tomorrow morning."

Natasha nodded, but said nothing. She lowered her eyes – feeling uncomfortable again.

The nurse exhaled, almost in an agitated manner, and leaned in closer to Natasha for emphasis – wringing her hands, "You were very lucky. The shot missed his vital organs. That's something he could've survived on his own; the serum just speeds up the process."

Natasha looked at her, still silent.

"That's _good_ , you know." The nurse clarified.

"No, I know." Natasha said finally, shaking it off, "I just... I can't help but feel like this is all my fault, you know? If I hadn't signed the accords..."

"All of this over the accords?"

"I know it sounds strange."

"The government is strange." The nurse agreed firmly. There was a pause. "They're got strange people working for them – madmen who think they know everything there is to know about the way the world works." She huffed and shook her head dismissively, "They think they're always right, too."

"Something tells me you're indifferent to them."

"Not just indifferent – indignant. I've got a good reason to be."

"They did something to you."

"To my husband..." The nurse's voice trailed off and her eyes softened, "Well, I guess now he'd be my late husband."

Natasha's heart sunk. _What did they do to him... to you?_

"I lost him a few years ago, in 2008. He worked for Ross when Ross worked for the military... He died in a helicopter crash amidst a fight against the Hulk." She explained. Natasha tensed at the name.

"Ross ordered the pilot to fire at it and, next thing you know, the helicopter was brought down by a big chunk of scrap metal from one of their armored vehicles. I saw it on YouTube." She chortled sadly, "'Cause that's the _perfect_ way to find out that your lover died..."

     And before Natasha knew it, tears were welling up in the nurse's eyes. "I didn't even get to say goodbye... Didn't get to tell him I loved him that morning. And I haven't had the chance to since. And you'd think that a grieving widow would take her anger out on the thing that attacked her husband but no... No I'm not mad at Bruce Banner. He can't control what he is any more than people like us can control a cold... I'm mad at Ross. Ross was the one who killed him. Ross gave the call to shoot at Banner – to try and fight a beast he knew they couldn't control. Because of Ross, I've had to take care of my now eight-year-old son all by myself."

Natasha felt her emotions dropping. This woman hated Ross even more than she did – and she had more than every right to.

"He was just a baby when his daddy died." The woman continued, "Could you imagine being that young and having to grow up without a father? Especially in the world we live in today?"

Natasha's eyes softened, "Unfortunately I can... I did. I'm so sorry about your husband." She said, and she had never been so sincere to someone she had never met before.

"Don't be. He's already dead... there's nothing I can do to save him." Then, her teary eyes cleared ever so slightly as she explained, "But, if I can save someone just like him – like that young man, Steve Rogers, for instance – then maybe it's almost like I'm saving my husband for real... like it's a close second."

"Is that why you're helping us?"

"That's why I help, _period_."

Natasha shook her head, "I can't thank you enough for that."

"You don't have to. Seeing him walk tomorrow will be 'thank you' enough."

"But I have to make you consider what you're doing."

The nurse raised her eyebrow.

"We're still fugitives from Ross," Natasha explained. "If they come for us, they'll come for you too – if they find out you've helped us."

The nurse furrowed her brows sarcastically, "Sweetheart, I kind of pieced that together myself when I found you hiding in the closet."

"But are you really willing to put yourself in danger for someone you don't know?"

"Are _you_?"

The next morning was smoother than the night before. It was 7:21am and Steve was groggy, but awake. The nurse had brought him some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on a tray – which of course, he ate through quickly. Natasha was offered some cereal, but she declined; settling for nothing instead.

And for a while, they talked – Steve, Natasha, and the nurse; whose name turned out to be Deandra, 'Dee' for short. Steve and Natasha talked amongst her as if they were friends rather than strangers, which somehow eased a lot of the stress on both of their shoulders.

Until it was time for Steve to stand up, that is.

Dee was on his left side with her right hand pressed against his shoulder blade and her left hand against his chest as she prepped him. She could sense the tension throughout his body and tightened her grip. "Alright, I'm gonna sit you up slowly and you tell me if you feel any pain." Steve nodded and braced for the pain that he was sure to hit him, releasing a soft groan under his breath as she helped sit him upwards and face him towards the side of the bed.

"Pain?" Dee asked.

Steve exhaled and nodded his head in approval, "It's sore, but it's bearable."

"Is that good?" Natasha asked, looking across at Deandra.

"Considering most patients in recovery would need two to three days tops before they could even shift in their bed, I'd say this is great." She assured her, earning a smile of relief.

"Alright, now if I could get you to stand on that side of him, Miss Romanoff," she urged, sending Natasha over to the other side of Steve where she mimicked her hand placements on his body, and directed her words back to Steve, "We're gonna help you onto your feet on the count of three, okay?"

"Okay." He agreed, holding his breath.

"Ready?" Dee asked Natasha, who nodded in return, and began the count... "One... two...three."

On three, they raised him onto his feet. He grunted, and seemed out of breath by the time he was up straight.

"Pain?"

"Did not feel good, no."

Natasha's expression tightened with worry and she looked up at him. "Would you be able to walk like this?"

Steve's eyes widened and he blinked, tilting his head in doubt, "I can try."

Dee rubbed his back and assured him, "We'll try, okay? We've got you supported on both sides, but you're gonna have to move your own legs. Take it slowly; one small step at a time, alright?"

"Alright."

"Try when you're ready."

Steve paused, inhaled a deep gulp of oxygen, and took a step forward.

"Slow..." she reminded him. He took another step, this time slower, and then another... and another... and another, all at the same slow pace. He didn't even flinch.

"Good, good... pain?"

"Hardly."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No, I mean really. I didn't feel anything."

"Okay then, great. Now try to walk to the door and back – we'll still be right next to you. Walk when you're ready."

Steve didn't wait. He tried to walk to the door at a normal pace, but he was quickly stopped by both Deandra and Natasha. "Take your time..." she reminded him, "Be careful on your body."

He kept walking, each step becoming more and more consistent, and he made it all the way to the door on the other side of the room with Nat and the nurse's help. They helped turn him around to face the other way.

"Can you make it back?" Natasha questioned.

"I think so." He nodded.

With their assistance, he traveled back to his bed at a pace closer to normal. Natasha patted his back and gave him a half-hug around his shoulder as all three of them smiled.

"Good job. This is great." Dee applauded him.

"You're doing great." Natasha agreed, looking up at him with bright eyes.

"Do you still need our help or do you think you can try standing up on your own for a minute?"

Steve looked at the two of them with uncertainty, but then he considered it. After a slight pause, he nodded his head, "I want to try."

Natasha gave the nurse a curious look and sighed. Dee nodded at her, then at Steve. "Okay. We're gonna let go on the count of three – one... two... three."

Dee and Natasha removed their hands from Steve's body and slowly backed away as he steadied himself – fighting to keep his balance.

"Pain?"

"No."

"Try turning around in a circle."

Steve almost chuckled as he slowly wobbled around in a circle around himself. He faced the door.

"Good. Now try taking a couple steps – _carefully_."

Steve stood in the same spot for a moment before finally deciding to move his legs. At first he felt pressure on his lower body, but it quickly vanished as he continued to move forward. He felt nothing or at least next to nothing, and it made him feel so much better.

"Do you think he can try walking to the door and back by himself?" Natasha asked Deandra quietly.

Dee turned to Steve, "Do you think you could?"

Steve walked at a normal pace to the door by himself, feeling a couple pinpricks of pain every occasional step, but nothing he couldn't handle. And on his walk back to the bed, he traveled as if nothing was wrong with him in the first place.

"Pain?" The nurse still asked, this time with a smile, as she knew his answer would be a 'No.'

"I think I'm okay now." He assured.

"So you can walk just fine?"

"Looks like it."

"Alright then!" she cheered, giving Natasha a quick high five and earning a laugh in response. "But just to be safe, let's go out into the hallway and try some quick exercises – get you walking longer distances before I release you into the wild."

"Okay," Steve laughed, walking towards the door. Natasha caught up to him and patted him on his shoulder with a smile and for some odd reason... she felt that maybe this time, after they left the hospital to get their friends back... Ross wouldn't know what hit him.

Steve and Natasha were in the hospital cafeteria mid-conversation while eating their lunch. While Steve being able to walk freely and smoothly again was deserved to be celebrated, there were more important matters they needed to touch upon first – i.e. how they planned to retrieve their teammates.

Natasha tapped her foot against the floor and focused on Steve after taking a sip of her cup of water. "I think we should go back to the base in Waco to grab our gear. We don't want to walk in unarmed this time. Besides, I feel naked fighting without the catsuit on anyways."

"So we get our suits, our gear... what else?" Steve asked.

"We should ask Maria for extra help. I don't think that two people walking in to fight a war is that intimidating." She pointed out, cocking her eyebrow upward in partner with her sarcastic smirk.

Steve nodded, "And they could be of extra help looking for the others. The more bodies we have searching for them inside, the better chances we'll have of finding them and the faster we can get out."

"How _are_ we gonna get out?" Natasha questioned, scooting her plate of food off to the side. "We can't leave the jet unattended. We can't even leave it anywhere near the prison, now that I think about it."

"We'll have Maria hover around the place until we give the O.K to fly by and get us out."

"No. Too many things could go wrong with that." Natasha shook her head in strong disagreement.

"It's the best option we've got."

She sighed, taking time to think about their other options, and Steve was right – they didn't really have any very many others. She looked at him, "We'll need to have full contact with her at all times, not just us, but every SHIELD agent we decide to bring with us."

"Okay. You want full contact? We'll get full contact. You know Maria. And you know SHIELD. They've got the technology."

"I'm just worried they don't have the will."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "So know your trust in the other agents is shaken? Wow."

Natasha glared at him. "My trust in _everyone_ is a little shaken right now."

"Relax. They'll help us. I know they will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because their lives depend on it just as much as ours do."


	22. Chapter 22

The trees howled as the jet hovered above them, about to land. Leaves blew from the branches and flew in loopdy-loops through the air until the engine roared and the jet came to a halt in the middle of the grass, only a few meters away from the Waco S.H.I.E.L.D facility.

The building was like most of the division's facilities. It was large and dull and had the big S.H.I.E.L.D logo plastered above the front entrance in silver, but unlike most of their facilities, it was seemingly isolated from the rest of its surroundings. Whether this was done intentionally or unintentionally, it seemed to keep the "low-profile" concept at a steady rate because neither Steve or Natasha nor the rest of the Avengers had known a facility in Waco existed until roughly a week ago.

Once Natasha had landed the jet, and Steve felt it come to a definite stop, he stood up quickly from his seat as a co-pilot and inhaled sharply through his teeth at the movement. Although he could walk on his own now, he still felt sore all throughout his limbs especially after hours of inactivity.

Natasha reached up tenderly and touched his forearm. "Don't strain yourself," she said calmly before rising to her feet and standing next to him, "You're one forced movement away from being a super-serum Humpty Dumpty."

Steve exhaled, "Noted." A discrete smile formed on his lips and he didn't even try to hide it. Natasha knew when to pick her moments to joke around and while it wasn't the perfect time, there was a sense of lightness in her tone despite her joke being a warning for him to be careful. It was almost soothing in a way that made him feel better about, like she said, being a forced movement away from a Humpty Dumpty.

Natasha leaned back and flipped a lever at the control panel. The backdrop lowered open, and they both sighed in perfect unison – which only added to the unexpected lightheartedness Steve felt. She placed her hand on his back, and Natasha helped guide him out into the open.

They had left the hospital early that morning, hoping to get to the facility as quickly as possible. They and Dee had said their goodbyes, and she wished the two of them the best of luck and reminded them of something important. "Sometimes you have to save yourselves before you can save the world," she said. Poetic. Natasha thought she'd make great fortune-cookies one day.

As they walked through the entrance to the building, Steve caught eyes with Maria, who sprung up from her desk across the room after chewing her thumb and rushed calmly over to greet them. She hugged Natasha, not in way of _'I never thought I'd see you again,'_ but more in a way of _'thank goodness you made it back whole this time.'_

Maria turned to embrace Steve after exchanging a relieved smile with Nat, but found herself distracted by the fact that it had only been two and a half days since the shooting and Steve was already standing perfectly on his feet.

She awed, "I see you're back in one piece."

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that." Steve remarked, pulling her in for the hug he'd missed out on a few seconds before.

Maria patted his back and pulled away after their short embrace. "Actually, I wouldn't. You're Steve. You're like a cat – nine lives and all."

Natasha rubbed Steve shoulder teasingly, "and he's already blown through ninety-nine percent of them."

Maria looked at him challengingly, "You think you can make it through the rest of this shit-show without losing any more?"

"I don't know," Natasha said for him and whispered in addition, "We may need a new cat."

That earned a laugh from Maria. "Let's save the Avengers from the floating-prison, then we'll get a new cat." She gestured for them to follow her, and they began walking and talking in her lead.

"So they _are_ at the Supermax?" Steve questioned for confirmation.

"Yep. For a guy who gets paid by the government to be unpredictable, he's pretty predictable."

"Ross?" Natasha guessed.

"Yes, and everyone he works for and everyone who works for him; all predictable. Although I'll admit, the Sokovia Accords were a bit of a curveball, at least for everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D." Maria looked over her shoulder to meet Natasha's eyes.

"And everywhere else," Natasha furrowed her brows.

Maria faced back forward and sighed, shaking her head, "Not everywhere..." her voice trailed softly.

Steve was curious what she meant by that and wanted to raise questions about it, and he could sense Natasha did as well, but he saw his opportunity to switch up the subject and he took it. "You _do_ have our stuff, right?" He asked, raising his eyebrows as their short walk came to a stop at a steel door.

"We don't have all the same stuff," Maria confessed, "But they're similar. Steve, we have your S.T.R.I.K.E stealth-suit from way back when. It better fits this type of mission, anyways. Nat, we have your catsuit – or one of them, at least. And we've always got gear and weaponry lying around these facilities."

Steve's eyes found the floor before traveling back up to meet Maria's. He looked at her sincerely. "Maria, I can't thank you enough for all of this."

She said nothing at first, but a grin gradually formed across her lips and she placed her hand on the door handle – "Don't thank _me_." She twisted the handle down and pushed effortlessly on the shiny metal surface.

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look of confusion and curiosity, and then the door was wide open to reveal a familiar face. Maria stepped out of the way. "Thank him."

Natasha's jaw almost dropped. " _Nick?_ "

Nick Fury, of all people, sat at an empty table in a black wheely chair with a satisfied expression plastered across his face. He raised his chin, almost in a dominant manner, and he tilted his head in a way that Steve could only compare to as a confused puppy.

Nick snorted with amusement, "Are you guys ever not in some form of trouble?"

Steve and Natasha looked at Maria in unison as their polite way of demanding answers. Maria caught on.

"The message you sent went to his system too." She explained.

Natasha shook her head, perplexed, "I sent it to _you_."

"You sent it to _both_ of us." Fury said, ending the argument. "I was in the middle of a nice nap when it came through—thanks for that."

Natasha rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "Oh, my apologies."

"Apology not accepted. Sit down—" he nudged one of the seats across from him with his foot from underneath the table, "We've got a lot to catch up on."

Maria extended her arm out, referencing the table, and gestured for them to take a seat upon Fury's request. Now, as if the roles had switched, Steve placed his hand on Natasha's back and guided her to her chair like a gentleman. He pulled it out from underneath the table, which allowed her the room to sit down. Once she sat, he turned his heel and took the seat next to her on the left—and Maria sat down at the head of the table, which both Steve and Natasha noticed as puzzling.

Normally, since Nick was the head director, the head of the table was his place to sit at every meeting and every conference; while Maria's seat was considered to be the one directly next to him on the left at the long side of the table. Not that it mattered too much in this sense, but it just felt unnatural to see them switched in their places.

They sat in silence for a few short moments, exchanging a few glances around to see who would speak first, until Fury exhaled through his nose. "So the man's out for revenge is what I'm getting at."

Then the real conversation began.

Steve shook his head, "Not revenge. He wants to finish what he started."

Fury raised his brows, "And imprisoning the other Avengers is going to get him there?"

"It gives him leverage. He knows that we'll come for them—just like we did all the times before, and we barely made it out in one piece last time."

"And he knows your injured," Maria reminded Steve, "So he'll use that to his advantage. If the force they used alone last time was enough to take out Captain America—double it; triple it?—imagine the damage he could get away with."

"But he thinks we'll be going at it alone." Natasha suggested, "If we had S.H.I.E.L.D's help..."

"You don't think he'd suspect that?" Maria said with her brows raised to sharp arches.

Natasha almost laughed, "I think he's so caught up in establishing dominance it won't even cross his mind."

"You'd still be outnumbered." Fury pointed out.

"But our agents are twice as skilled in every aspect of fieldwork—you know that." She argued. "And as far as Ross is concerned, S.H.I.E.L.D died with Project Insight two years ago in Washington D.C. He _won't_ suspect it."

Maria considered it. She bit her lip, "How many would you need?"

Nat leaned back in her seat..."As many as you'll allow us."

"We'll need your best," Steve insisted, "The highest ranking agents S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer."

Maria looked at him. "I'm not sure you—"

"Done."

All eyes fell on Nick. _Done?_ Steve thought... _that was quick._

Fury exhaled, and began his spiel. "This man waltzes in after Lagos, gives you minimal credit for everything you've done since New York, forces some whack-ass accords onto your plates and claims he has the power to disassemble the Earth's Mightiest Heroes upon refusal to comply." He shook his head in disapproval. "No. _I'm_ the only guy around here who gets to do that. He wants to hit us with that kind of force? Hit him back twice as hard."

Steve and Natasha looked at each other, and then back at Nick.

He continued, "This ends _now_... Take all the agents and supplies you want—take back the Avengers"

End monologue.

It was powerful. And he was right. Ross needed to be knocked off his high-horse and put in his place. And the Avengers needed to be saved. The only way they would accomplish either of those things was if they acted now. Fury just happened to know exactly how to push them there.

Steve nodded, and felt something genuine in his heart. "Thank you."

Fury returned the nod.

"Now," he began, changing up the subject, "If we're done with that... I'd like to discuss the changes I've had made to your gear."

"Changes?" Natasha quirked her brow.

"Updates, really. Oh—and speaking of gear," he turned to Steve, "I've got something special for you."

Steve crossed his arms. He was expecting it to be some practical joke; nothing really special or anything that would be of actual value. Fury's played that card before. Once on Steve's birthday, S.H.I.E.L.D threw him a small party—nothing too outgoing (but it was special to him)—and everyone who attended gave him a nice gift or a well thought-out card. Fury, on the other hand, gave a whole long-winded introduction before letting Steve open his gift from him, said it would be the best and most important gift he'd ever received, Steve opened the large box, took out all the dozens of layers of stuffing paper... and the gift was _LifeAlert_.

So his expectations weren't too high this time around.

Fury bent down behind a set of cabinets and began dragging something from around the corner. "You can thank me later..."

When he turned around, Steve had to refrain from bouncing off the walls. In Nick's hands lied Captain America's signature piece of gear and was worth more than any "sentimental" gift Fury could offer him.

It was his shield.

Nick smirked, "Or now—whichever feel is most fitting."

"You're kidding!!" Steve awed, his expression beaming with excitement. Natasha hadn't seen him smile like that in what felt like years.

"Take it." Fury insisted and tossed the shield over to him. Steve caught it perfectly and turned it up right to admire it, smoothing his hand over its shiny surface.

Natasha looked to Nick, with a smile wide on her face also, and raised the question, "How did you get it?"

"Stark left it on my doorstep." He said, "Not literally, but you get it. Said that he didn't know what else to do with it, nor did he want anything to do with it, and insisted that I hand it back over to you seeing as though I probably had contact with you—which I did _not_ , at the time, but the man's damn good at predicting the future."

Steve looked at him with hesitant eyes. Hearing the story almost made him feel sorry for accepting his shield back so easily.

"It's yours. He knows that. No matter what he may have said." Fury reminded him sincerely. He placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "And it's safer in your hands than in his."

Steve lowered his eyes to the shield, staring back at his faint reflection in it. "Wow," he remarked with a sigh, "I'll have to thank him."

Natasha uncrossed her right arm from her chest to stroke the shield. She smiled sadly. "I guess he's letting go of his grudge." And she meant "he" as in Tony.

He returned the broken smile. All that fighting over the Accords and their political beliefs and Steve was convinced that Tony hated him horribly, and would always hate him. Now it seemed as though, with baby steps beginning with the small gesture of returning his shield, they were finally starting to come to good terms with one another. That gave him hope. "I guess so."

He turned the shield over to examine the backside and noticed a small black feature just above the magnet. It was a tiny rectangular icon with a screen, but Steve couldn't tell what it was.

"What's this?" He asked.

"An update. Romanoff, you've got one on your Widow's Bites, too." Fury said, grabbing her gloves and tossing them to her.

Natasha almost rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but _what_ is it?"

"Your access to more help." Maria answered. "The icons are fingerprint-recognizable, so it will only send signals back to our systems for us to send help if you're the one pressing it."

"Sounds fancy."

"Yeah, well, this way there are no accidental requests for help—not that it's likely _or_ possible to send 'accidental' requests for backup, but nowadays with missions like these, you can be too careful. Now I know you want the best of the best, but I'd still like to keep the number of agents fighting at a minimal unless they're seriously needed otherwise."

"We can work with that," Steve agreed. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Fury nodded with a smile. Not a 'you owe me big time' smile, but a genuine, 'you didn't even have to ask' kind of smile. He cleared his throat. "Well... if you'd like to get to the Supermax by nightfall, which I'm assuming you do, then I suggest you go suit up."

**~**

They were in full uniform for the first time in forever. An hour had passed, and they'd kind of split off to go their separate ways while Maria gathered the other agents and got them to suit up and collect their gear. Now, as they were about to load themselves onto the jet any minute now, they all stood in the main entrance hallway waiting for Fury or Maria's cue.

Natasha sat on top of a supply box that they wouldn't be needing, away from the herd of bodies in black. She'd been thinking a lot the past hour. Not specifically about Ross and the Avengers, but about herself. Her choices. What she wanted to do after the issue was resolved.

Her usual deep conversationalist was nowhere to be found in that hour time frame, but now that they were all in the same vicinity, he spotted her sitting in isolation before she spotted him walking over to fix it.

Steve sensed she was upset. There was just a look in her eyes that gave it away, even from afar. And he knew her too well to think otherwise. He approached her and waited to see if she would speak to him. No words came out. Instead, she looked up at him and half-smiled— _fake_ smiled.

He exhaled and pulled another empty bin they'd used to store supplies before and dragged it in front of her. He flipped in upside down so he'd have a flat surface to sit on top of, and he plopped himself gently onto the bin.

She didn't even make eye contact with him.

But he knew she wanted to.

He sighed. "What's going on inside your head?"

Natasha looked at him and fake smiled again, raising her eyebrows. "That's a loaded question," she laughed sadly through her nose.

Steve's expression remained serious. He hadn't been born yesterday. He knew when Natasha was lying to him, especially when it was about her being upset, and he wasn't going to budge until he got an explanation out of her.

Natasha knew this all too well and she looked away, almost embarrassed, and sighed. "I'm tired," she confessed.

"Of?" He asked, leaning back.

"Just tired." She said, shaking her head and curling her lips. "Tired of running; tired of Ross... tired of Avenging."

He lowered his eyes. "You don't want to be an Avenger anymore." Quite frankly, he'd felt the same way for a while now. He wondered how long she'd felt it.

"I don't want to live my life as though it were constantly on the line anymore." She elaborated, "I want to settle. I want to move on and... and turn a few pages—I don't know."

"Why don't you?" He'd been asking himself that question lately too. Only now was he coming to realize that the only thing keeping him from moving on was that Natasha was still entitled to her work. He figured she'd want to stay doing what she did every day. And now that wasn't the case.

She paused—not because she had to think about the answer, but because she was almost afraid to say it out loud. "Because the sad thing is, I don't know how to. And neither do you. And neither do any of the other goddamn superheroes who are just doing their jobs."

Steve exhaled. "It'd be nice if we did, though."

"It'd be surreal is what it'd be."

Steve didn't want to see her drowning in her hopes this way. They'd been through hell together and they'd plan to get through this together as well, but he couldn't sit there knowing how she felt and just let her come along for the ride. She deserved better than that. She _needed_ better.

"You know," he trailed, "You can start learning to now. You can try to move on. This is my fight, really—it's not yours."

Natasha's face twisted. "Bullshit. This became our fight the minute I went looking for you after Germany."

"But you didn't have to do that. And you don't have to fight this fight either. Nat I just want to keep you safe. I got us into this mess—"

"No, we got _ourselves_ into this mess. We let the accords get the best of us, that's not your fault. Stop trying to take all the blame because believe it or not—sometimes we all have to share it. This fight over the accords?—it was inevitable. We were all different people with different political standpoints and different plans and we couldn't save ourselves any more than we could've saved the lives in Lagos. Now I abandoned you once; I'm  not doing it again. I'm staying. And I'm gonna fight. And _then_ I'll begin my tragic attempts to move on and start new." She said seriously, never once breaking eye contact with him.

And for once, he didn't object.

"Okay." He responded softly. Natasha looked at him as if she were shocked that he didn't try to argue with her. He nodded sadly. "I pushed you away once. Never again." He mimicked, only it wasn't mockery. He meant it every bit as much as she did.

"And I pushed you away..." she added on. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away, shaking her head in disappointment. "God, what's wrong with us?"

Steve pursed his lips and half-laughed, "I think it might have something to do with the fact that we don't really know how to do anything other than save the world and kick ass."

She paused. "Do you think we could? Move on? Start new?"

He sighed, and he considered it—really considered it. Could there ever be a lifetime where Steve Rogers was _just_ Steve Rogers? Would he ever live to see the day where he didn't have to read headlines in the newspapers featuring him as Captain America? Would Natasha ever be _just_ Natasha?

"I don't know," he answered truthfully and met her eyes, "But I really want to find out."

"Me too." She admitted.

There was a pause. So they both wanted to move on and start a life without their titles of Captain America and Black Widow. So what? What good was there in wishing for it if they had no plan to achieve it?

Steve poked her kneecap to regain her attention. "Tell you what," he suggested, "When all of this is over? When the Avengers and the both of us are freed? We'll learn together. And if it turns out that starting over just isn't gonna work for people like us... well then, we'll have each other to bitch about it to."

That earned a laugh and an eye roll from her. "You make a compelling argument."

He smiled, and he covered her knee with his hand, "Deal?" He asked. Natasha looked down, exhaled with a slight chuckle, and placed her hand on top of his.

"Deal."


	23. Chapter 23

Despite the room being large and open, the sloppy enclosed circle around Nick Fury composed of every helping agent shoulder-to-shoulder made everyone feel confined.

The circle had formed naturally with no order, and all waited for Nick to send them off. Steve and Natasha had made their way towards the front and stood off to his right, murmuring in conversation like many of the others, while Maria Hill stood to his left—observing the agents in their gathering with her hands folded behind her back. She exchanged a glance with Fury, who nodded in quiet approval, before loudly clearing her throat. The soft echo her gesture sent throughout the room quickly regained everyone's attention, and all eyes fell upon Nick in the middle of the circle.

He exhaled deeply with his eyes to the floor, sinking his weight into the balls of his feet. The room was silent.

"I'm usually not a fan of pep-talks, but this is one of those times where I think I should give one." He began, bobbing his head barely as he spoke. "If you are Captain Rogers, or Agents Hill & Romanoff—I apologize; you three have already received this spiel... and yes, I had written and memorized this prior to your arrival."

The honesty of his remark drew out a few chuckles from the mass of those surrounding him, and he flashed an unintended smirk in return. He brushed it off and cleared his throat, "Moving onto the pep-talk, it goes like this: Secretary-General Ross waltzes in after the incident in Lagos, gives the Avengers minimal credit for everything they've done since New York, forces some whack accords onto their plates and claims he has the power to disassemble the Earth's Mightiest Heroes upon refusal to comply."

A couple disapproving noises were made, almost enough to make Natasha break her focus on Fury's all-too-familiar words in laughter. 

"His men? They put a hole in Captain Rogers' abdomen. They locked up and tortured Wanda Maximoff—twice. And they forced the Avengers into hiding after initiating a man-hunt for Captain America and his team. We're fortunate to have Steve and Natasha both here with us right now, leading us all on this mission."

Steve and Natasha looked up at each other. Natasha smiled softly and bumped into the side of him playfully. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, trying to steer clear of distraction as Fury had approached the portion of his speech that they _hadn't_ heard yet.

"To Ross' knowledge, this organization fell two years ago and never got back up. Therefore, he will not be expecting the both of them to walk in with over sixty armed and ready agents as their backup. The plan is that they, along with the currently eight agents of the STRIKE Team Delta, will be the first to go in. Only upon Captain Rogers' and Agent Romanoff's request will any other agents be sent in. Agents will be delivered by order of their team rankings—Primary STRIKE, Secondary STRIKE, and then all remaining agents."

Everyone examined one another, mostly at those who shared the same ranking as them. Steve took a moment to look around too at the roughly sixty-seven agents accompanying them, and he hoped that only less than a fourth of them would have to fight today.

"There are a lot of 'ifs' we won't be clear on until we arrive. So all agents, regardless of whether or not you have been sent in, are under strict order to stay armed, stay alarmed, and be prepared to fight at all times." Nick ordered, "Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," the mass of S.H.I.E.L.D agents all nodded in loud unison.

"This ends now." He said seriously, "The time to take back the Avengers is now. We've come a hell of a long way over the course of a century. Don't disappoint now."

There was more nodding and murmurs of agreement from the crowd as Nick turned to face Maria.

"Agent Hill, anything you would like to add?" He asked.

Maria pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. "You combined both of our speeches together on the spot, so no."

 _That explains it,_ Natasha thought with the tiniest of smiles.

"Agent Romanoff?" He offered, turning back over his shoulder to face the pair standing side by side. "Captain Rogers?"

They exchanged a glance, and without having to think, Natasha took a step back to give Steve the floor. The agents seemed prepared for him to speak way before Natasha stepped back, because upon Fury's mention of his name all the eyes landed on him.

He exhaled, letting his hands hang lose at his side, and he began his turn. "I know it's asking a lot for you all to put your lives on the line for the sake of ourselves and our friends. And I know that if we all walk in there today... maybe not all of us will walk out."

The air felt heavy as he spoke, and by that point anyone who hadn't already faced the fear of dying that day had the idea surface in their minds. He continued, "But I, for one, am willing to take that chance if it means we have even the slightest chance at saving the Avengers and your fellow agents. Most of us are. And I just want to make it clear that nobody standing here is being forced to fight with us. That's an order we would never give when faced with a situation like this. So if you want to stay behind, and stay safe—if you want to _guarantee_ that you'll go home to your families tonight... now's the time."

To his, and to everyone else's surprise, not a single man or woman left or even looked as if they were considering it. And despite Steve's sudden feeling of relief, he also felt his heart sink deep into his chest—as did Natasha's, and Maria Hill's, and Nick Fury's.

Steve nodded his head in uncertain satisfactory. "Good. I can't thank you all enough for everything you're doing for us. And if nobody has any further questions, comments, or concerns..." he trailed, glancing at Fury as signal to take over.

Fury observed the bodies in the room. Nobody raised their hand in question, nobody looked unsure, nobody even seemed to move. He sighed, and in his highest approval, he ordered, "Move out."

The mass shifted towards the doors, dividing into smaller crowds to fit. Steve and Natasha were among the first ones out, marching behind Fury and Maria as the other agents followed their lead. Ahead, there stood three large black Quinjets with the S.H.I.E.L.D logo and their assigned flight number painted at the head of their wings. Being most common units of transportation used within the organization, they were not unfamiliar to S.H.I.E.L.D or their associates.

"I need STRIKE Delta on the first jet to the right! You'll be with Agents Hill, Romanoff, and Captain Rogers." Fury ordered as they approached.

"Primary & Secondary STRIKE teams to the jet on your left—you'll be piloted by Agent Melinda May. Everyone else, you're with me. Do not forget procedure!"

Agent Melinda May: veteran pilot and soldier, Red Level S.H.I.E.L.D operative, specialist, and current administrator—practically second to Maria Hill. It had been years since Natasha had last worked alongside her, but for Steve this was a first. He knew she had close ties with Phil Coulson, a man whom Steve had once upheld high admiration for; to meet another friend of his served, in a way, as a nice reminder of what it was like working with him.

All agents piled onto the jets in their assigned clusters. Steve never did too well in small spaces, for some obvious _and_ not-so-obvious reasons, but all who were on the same jet as him were only himself; Maria, who piloted; Natasha, who copiloted; and STRIKE Delta, which consisted of only eight agents—this was something he found tolerable. He could only imagine how awful it must have felt being on either of the other two jets. As STRIKE took their seats and Maria and Natasha got the jet's systems up and running, Steve reached up and grabbed hold of one of the black gripping straps from the ceiling.

"Everyone good to go?" Maria echoed throughout the jet, earning nods and mumbles of confirmation in return from the agents aboard. She tapped into her earpiece, "This is Agent Maria Hill, we are prepped and ready to dispatch; securing channel 05, Nick do you copy?"

There was brief static from the receiving end before Nick's voice came through loud and clear into Maria's ear. "Agent Hill, this is Director Fury; received and understood. May, is everything set on your end?"

Melinda tapped in, "STRIKE has been secured. Ready when you are. Over."

"In that case, you're both clear to move out. Hill, lead the way."

"Roger that. Over and out." Maria ended, tapping out of the conversation and shifting her attention to the controls—where she would be at for the upcoming long couple of hours over the ocean.

**~**

They had been airborne for the past rough two hours and forty-seven minutes—not that anyone had been counting.

There was nothing to do aside from sitting and waiting, maybe sparking up a brief conversation with the man or woman in the seat next to you; let alone anything to observe. You look to your left, you see the Pacific Ocean. You look to your right, you also see the Pacific Ocean. Luckily, nobody flying with them was too talkative or fidgety... which only added fuel to a very boring, uneventful flight.

Steve had taken a seat on the floor at the front, next to the control panels and Natasha—who also didn't talk much, nor did she ever on long dispatches like this; surrounded by her fellow agents whom she wouldn't classify as her friends with the exception of Maria and Steve. But as they approached their last moments on the jet with the Supermax now only a short distance from their position, she removed her headset and stood up, abandoning copilot, and she said the first words spoken in hours.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" She asked with a tired exhale. The eyes of everyone on the jet turned to focus on her. She flashed everyone an embarrassed simper, and nodded her head. "Thank you. We're approaching the Supermax; we should arrive in another ten minutes or so, so now would be a good time to check and secure your communication arrays and your parachutes. Triple-check the channels with one another and if your earpieces and wrist-chips aren't working, come see me for replacements. Does everyone have the procedure in check?"

"Yes ma'am," they all confirmed, this time in a scattered manner rather than in their typical consistent way of response. But, much like herself, they were all groggy from sitting in silence.

Natasha looked around, and bobbed her head in satisfaction, "Okay. Stay safe. We'll try to get in and out as quickly and as safely as possible with minimal to no casualties, but we can't guarantee everyone a free pass out of there alive. Just remember who you're fighting... and more importantly, who and what you're fighting for."

Nobody responded; nobody needed to. She knew the silence meant she had gotten her message across—and one that was far too personal for a uniform response. She pursed her lips, "O-K; get to it."

She turned her back to them, facing down at the controls and tapping into her earpiece and wrist chip as Steve stood up from the floor. "Secure channel 07?"

"07 secured. That was a nice pep-talk." He said.

"Thanks, I've been practicing."

"It's really paying off," he agreed, drawing a smile out of her before he returned to his earpiece. "Maria, secure channel 05."

"Already secured." She answered directly without attending to her headset.

"Alright, Fury, you copy?"

Nick tapped in, "Copied. 01 is secure."

"We're about ready to drop off. Over."

"Roger that, Rogers." He responded, and Steve could so clearly hear the trailing laughs from his end.

 _Bet he didn't even know that was gonna come out of his mouth until he said it,_ he thought, bringing his wrist to his face and flooding his voice with sarcasm, "Priceless."

"It was _funny_." Nick argued, picking up on Steve's all-too-familiar annoyed sarcasm almost instantly.

"Over..." Steve ended, rolling his eyes and tapping out of the conversation. His eyes fell on Natasha's side profile. "Nat, have you touched in with Agent May?"

She halted fidgeting with the gadgets on the panel and brushed her hair off of her shoulder to scratch her neck. "Yep." She answered and made eye contact with him. "04 is secured. And Fury?"

"Secure."

She exhaled, sinking into her heels and leaning against the side of the copilot seat. "Then we haven't fallen off the boat yet."

Steve cocked his brow in uncertainty, "Doesn't mean the boat's not sinking."

Natasha rolled her eyes with laughter and nudged his leg with her foot. "Save the pessimistic counterarguments for _after_ we land, okay?" She turned to the STRIKE agents, "Parachutes on?"

"Yes ma'am," they responded altogether.

"Alright. Maria, we're good to go. Just waiting for our cue."

She snickered as she shook her head, amused at how Natasha thought it was her whom had the authority. "It's not _my_ call to give, it's Steve."

He looked over his shoulder, "And I will give it once we're within the fifty meter radius, as discussed."

"Lucky for you, we're now within the thirty-five meter radius." She said matter-of-factly.

Steve and Natasha gave each other a knowing look as they both turned to catch a glimpse of the Supermax ahead, which grew larger and more intimidating the closer they approached. He pressed himself against the corner where the windshield met the right side of the wall, using his elbow as support, and grabbed hold of the edge to the control panel as he forced himself to exhale. He felt another hand cover his own and stroke the length of his forearm, and when he glanced and saw that it belonged to Natasha, she wasn't looking at him. Her attention was drawn to the Supermax, much like his was.

As her grip on him tightened, and the sound of her breathing in and out rumbled, Steve knew what she was feeling about as well as the lyrics to an old song from his time. He saw it so clearly in her eyes as they shifted in place, trying to focus on something that couldn't be seen—and her pupils dilated, laying waste to their deep green color. He'd seen that look before. He'd worn that look. It was the look of fear. Her immediate cling to his limb had probably even been involuntary; she probably didn't even recognize that she was doing it. And his guess was proved right as he patted her hand gently with his free one and she recoiled, blinking her eyes where her pupils returned to normal size. She turned away.

Steve sighed and opened his mouth to say something that would ease the tension, but as if she knew exactly what he was going to say, Natasha interrupted him before he even spoke. "I know," She promised, exhaling as she nodded her head, "I know."

He stepped forward, crossing his arms. " _I_ know."—they both smiled sadly at that. "Lower the backdrop," He said to Maria, who hadn't switched to autopilot or even moved from the pilot's seat since they left the base. "Prepare to engage on cue." He ordered at a commanding volume that earned the attention of the Delta agents.

"Lowering backdrop." Maria described as she toyed with a few switches until a beeping noise sounded and the backdrop slowly began to fall open.

Natasha grabbed two of the remaining the harnesses from wall and tossed one to Steve after he secured his shield onto his back, and they strapped them on as they made their way to the back of the Quinjet where the drop had opened.

He tapped into his arrays, "Fury, May, are your agents on standby?"

"Standby confirmed. Waiting for the call to action." Melinda answered.

"Verified." Nick confirmed.

Natasha heard their responses through her earpiece and tapped out at the same time everyone else did. She adjusted Steve's parachute around his figure, tightened the straps, and patted her hands against his chest. "Let's go save our family." She said softly.

He nodded. The both of them looked down at the Supermax that was now only a few meters away from, but high enough in the air that they wouldn't be recognized on Ross' radar. He straightened out, prepped himself to jump for the first time in what felt like forever, and gave the call.

"Move out."

Steve and Natasha lead the way, being the first ones to jump while STRIKE Delta fell behind them. The air pierced their skin as they sliced through it, accelerating downwards while the jet above them disappeared from view. Natasha had never been able to put into words how it felt to jump from the sky like that—never been able to describe the feel of adrenaline rushing through her veins or how it felt when the parachute was pulled and your heart felt like it would stop then and there, but never did. And the rush began with Steve as he yanked down on his harness string, sending his parachute flying open—the action zipping down the line like dominos as the others mimicked.

They never strayed too far from their chosen landing spot, but only when they touched the ground did they notice how close the wind had blown them to the edge. At their own pace, everyone unlatched their harnesses and removed them from their bodies; letting the chutes fall lousily to the floor as they marched forward—guns loaded and eyes peeled.

Steve grabbed his shield from its secured spot on his back and held it in front of him as they approached the steel door that would lead to the inside of the prison. He held up his hand, ordering those behind him to stop where they were and remain silent while he opened the door with caution. Natasha raised her gun and quickly peered through the opening, examining the inside and checking for security guards: none.

She looked over her shoulder to nod; fingers still wrapped around the trigger and arms refusing to lower. Steve waved for the STRIKE team to proceed and they all slipped through the door.

Quietly, and as one body, they proceeded down the stairs which curved into a spiral; leading to an empty hallway that split in two directions that couldn't yet be seen from their position. Natasha stiffened, hopeful that there would be no men in black at the bottom, but her hope was diminished as a bullet was fired into Steve's shield—catching them off-guard.

Eight of Ross' men awaited them. The agents crouched behind Steve, taking advantage of the cover his shield provided them with, and began firing back.

Natasha aimed her gun and old instinct kicked in. She added to the noise of triggers being pulled and bullets being launched, effortlessly firing only three bullets—and three men fell to the floor with holes in their left shoulders where their hearts were located. Three perfect shots: no rifling, no hesitation. Then again, her Red Room instructors had always assured her that precision and lack of mercy was what made her such a good agent—so _lethal_.

STRIKE took out the remaining five men, and before any of them could blink, there were eight lifeless bodies practically piled on top of each other on the floor beneath them.

Natasha got a good look at their surrounds. "Clear!" She whispered, as if lowering her voice would make up for the sound of gunshots that probably let the whole rest of the building know they were there, if they didn't already.

She spoke into her chip, "Entrance secured,"—notifying Nick, Maria, and Melinda. Steve led everyone down the stairs where the hallway divided.

"Split up!" He ordered, "I need four of you that way; four this way! Nat, you go with them and I'll take my four this way. _Everyone_ look for Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott!"

They broke into two groups, one that would follow Natasha to the left and one which would follow Steve to the right. Before they could even completely turn their backs to one another, a swarm of Ross' men came around the corner from both directions and began open-fire.

Across from the stairs at the entrance, there was an elevator—which left room for Natasha and another agent from her group to use as protection while the remaining three agents took cover behind the wall to the left of the stairs. Natasha took out five men, each one a clean shot, while STRIKE shot down the remaining seven—twelve in total.

Behind them, Steve and his four were under the same attack. Lucky for his STRIKE agents, they had the safety of his shield to seek protection from while they fired their rounds at Ross' men—taking out nine of the twelve. Boldly, Steve swung his shield in their direction; knocking two men off of their feet as it bounced from one man to the next. In a swift motion, he leaped forward and caught his shield as it came back around like a boomerang and, as another goon came at him, rammed it into his chest—knocking the air out of him before punching him upside the face.

The last man standing fired a bullet, which dove straight into Steve's shield, barely missing his right arm and catching him off-guard. He continued to block the shots, moving closer and closer to the man before kicking his legs out from underneath him and delivering a final blow to his face—rendering him unconscious.

He, Natasha, and their STRIKE agents re-gathered themselves; reloading their weapons and abandoning whatever cover they had. There was a loud noise familiar in sound to a system being powered on, which caught everyone's attention. Shortly after the noise, sirens began to screech and the white light throughout the hallway—and presumably the rest of the prison—flashed red.

Ross, or perhaps even just his men, knew they were here. Natasha remembered the red lights and the sirens from when she visited during their emergency protocol sessions. It was a warning signal to everyone in the building that there was an intruder inside. Only, this wasn't a warning—it was a call to action.

"Keep moving!" Steve yelled, forcing everyone to continue—or rather to _begin_ —the search. Obeying his orders, everyone furthered the separation and continued down either direction until both groups lost sight of the other.

It didn't take long for Ross' men to respond to the scene, and upon making the turn around the corner, Steve and his four encountered roughly twenty more men in black. Shots were fired almost instantly, leaving them little time to find and take cover behind the walls on either side of the path. They fired back when their aim was clear, but it had been a solid two minutes of hesitation before they even took out six men.

Natasha and her four had disappeared to the left, following the path that, if she remembered correctly, led to a fraction of the cells. Her instinct to start small proved to be of good use when they wandered down a dimmer hall and found Scott, caged in his cell in the middle of the wall.

He spotted her before she even made it halfway to him, and he called out, "Hey! Hey! Nat! Natasha! Over here!"

They made eye contact and she felt her heart settle with sudden relief, "I've found Scott," she said into her chip, hoping Steve received the message on his end, and she jogged to him.

She squatted in front of his cell, grasping hold of the bars and rubbing his hand with her own. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, "As well as a guy can be whilst held prisoner in a floating hell-hole."

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay." She promised, rising to her feet.

His expression contorted in disbelief—"What, do you know the passcode?"

His cell had no lock that she could physically pick with a sharp object, per se. It had a high-tech lock that could only be opened digitally, she assumed by entering a passcode and scanning your handprint on the device wired onto the outside of the bars. And she was more than certain she had no time to crack to the code, nor did she have an authorized scan of her handprint. Luckily, there was a much easier way for her to break into the lock.

"Don't need to." She assured, pulling out her gun and aiming it at the digital keypad and scanner.

"And there's also the hand-recognition thing—" He rambled, but was cut off by Natasha firing three quick bullets into the tablet. Startled and caught off-guard, he threw his hands over his head and jumped to the side.

When the banging stopped, he opened his eyes to take a peek at the damage and Natasha lowered her gun. He raised his eyebrows, "Or shoot at it; that works too, I guess."

Natasha reached out and pried open the cell door before extending a hand to help Scott to his feet. They both exhaled.

"Do you know where the others are—?" She began to ask, but was interrupted by sounds of guns being fired in their direction. She turned to look and saw a huge clump of Ross' men coming towards them, only to be slowed down by Natasha's four STRIKE agents firing back.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Scott by his collar and dragged him back into his cell for cover, closing the door behind her. They both slammed themselves into the side of the wall closest to the firing, knowing it was the smartest way for them to go without being noticed.

Answering her question, Scott raised his voice over the noise, "Yeah! Wilson and Barnes are in conjoined cells somewhere down _that_ hall," He pointed to the corner a long amount of meters in front of them, which led to a separate hallway. "I think Barton's down there too! But I'm not sure!"

She stopped, having to think quickly. They couldn't stay put in the cell and wait out the firing, it wouldn't be long before Ross' men reached them. She needed to get to the other three.

"Take me to them!" She blurted.

Scott looked at her like she was crazier than he ever had before. "Now?"

"Yes, now!"

Natasha glanced through the bars, taking a look around the corner where the shooting was taking place, waiting for a moment to leave. At that moment, none of the four STRIKE agents she had taken with her were down or even seemed injured in any way. She counted sixteen of Ross' men, not including the four that were laying presumed dead on the floor in the middle of the scene. She turned back to face Scott.

"Stay in front of me—run like hell on my cue!" She told him.

He nodded confidently, "Okay—"

"—Now! Go!"

Natasha threw open the door and pushed him into the open, and they took off running. As they ran, she turned her heel and began firing shots at Ross' men; jogging backwards. They fired back, but none were able to catch a clear shot the farther away she and Scott got.

Remembering what Fury and Maria told her about her updated uniform, she looked at the inside of her wrists and inserted her fingerprint into the small icon on her Widows' Bites. It beeped at her, then the scanner on the screen disappeared and a black screen that read 'TALK' replaced it. The little bead at the top of the icon began flashing red, signifying that her message was being recorded.

She spoke into it as she and Scott continued to run, "Send Primary and Secondary STRIKE to the east _and_ west quadrants of the prison ASAP! Over!" She ended the message, hopeful that it would be sent out, and fired two final bullets behind her before making a sharp turn around the corner where Clint, Sam, and Bucky awaited her and Scott.

"Nat!" Clint cheered, sitting up from inside his cell and grabbing hold of the bars.

"You made it just in time for the party!" Sam teased with a sarcastic smile.

She rolled her eyes whilst raising her gun, "Yeah, lucky me."

"Sit back guys," Scott warned with his arms crossed, leaned against the side of the wall.

In one swift notion, she fired three rounds at the tablet on Sam's cell—unlocking both his and Bucky's doors, as their cells were conjoined—and then quickly turned around to fire three rounds at Clint's, who's cell was almost directly across from Sam and Bucky's on the opposite wall.

Scott opened up Sam and Bucky's doors, helping them to their feet while Natasha took care of Clint in his cell. He grabbed hold of her hand and let her pull him up before lousily pulling him in for a hug. She chuckled with relief as she sank into his embrace; he rubbed her back. "You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," she answered, pulling away. "You?"

"Fine. Where's Steve?" He asked with wandering eyes as he placed his lands on his hips.

Natasha gestured her head to the left, "Other side." At the mention of his name, she brushed her hair back and tapped into her chip. "Steve, I've got all the boys."

Steve and his four were still caught in mid-fire-fight when he heard her voice from the other line. He ducked behind the same wall he'd been stuck at for what felt like forever, barely dodging a bullet that sliced by only inches away from his face. He brought his hand to his ear and spoke into his wrist, "What about Wanda? Do you have her?"

Natasha's heart started racing. She lowered her hand and asked whole-group with serious concern, "Does anyone know where they took Wanda?"

Sam crossed his arms sadly, "We got no clue."

"They always lock her up separately from the rest of us; we don't know why." Bucky added, shaking his head.

Natasha closed her eyes. "Negative; nobody knows where she is." She said into her chip. She couldn't believe it was happening again—Wanda being the last to get rescued; trapped who knows where.

"Keep looking!" Steve responded, and Natasha could hear gunshots from his end. "We're still caught up in a fire-fight over here!"

"I've called for Primary and Secondary STRIKE. If Melinda got the message, they should be down there any minute." She assured.

Seemingly on-cue, eleven extra STRIKE agents—Primaries—came out and about down the stairs and through the hallway to add fuel to S.H.I.E.L.D's fire. Invisible to Ross' men, who were firing at them from around the corner, the Primaries were able to help Steve and the Deltas with the element of surprise. While they were able to take out nine of Ross' men altogether within the first few rounds, they weren't all fortunate enough to survive the bullets still being fired at them at rapid speeds—and a STRIKE Delta agent along with two Primaries fell motionless to the floor as the bullets pierced through their bodies. Steve's heart shattered.

The five remaining men seemed to subconsciously realize they were outnumbered, and seized fire for only a short moment. Steve saw an opportunity.

"STRIKE, Hold you fire!" He ordered and came bolting out into the open—forcing Ross' men to go at it hand-to-hand. Muscle memory took over, and he plunged his shield into the first man's chest before reattaching it to his back; throwing him off his balance before pulling him in close and using him as a human shield while another goon shot at him. He pried the dead man's gun from his fingers, and tossed his limp, bloody body to the floor.

Using the gun, he shot back—sending two silver bullets straight through the second man's sternum and watching him collapse just as a third man came shooting at him from the side. Steve dodged the shots, grabbed the man's wrist and snatched the gun from his hand by the fore-end before snapping and twisting his hand backwards—causing the man to shriek in pain. Lastly, he bashed the back of his neck with the rifle's stock, sending him falling to the floor unconscious.

He quickly removed his shield from his back, using it to block the aggressive kicks from the fourth and one the last two men still standing. He caught the punch that was thrown at him, grasping the man by his arm and flipping him forward and snapping it when he landed on his knees. The man yelped, and was put out of his misery as Steve brought his foot to his face.

A bullet was fired at him, and instinct forced him to cover his face with his shield—thus blocking the shot. He made eye contact with the man who fired the gun, and he had never seen fear in one's eyes quite like that. The man started to back up—so clearly scared to death that Steve would end his life then and there.

Steve exhaled, almost feeling sorry for the guy—but not sorry enough to let him walk away without a few bruises. Ending the fight, he ran towards him and stuck him with a reverse roundhouse to the face, and the man collapsed to the ground.

On the other side, Clint remembered a conversation he heard about Wanda between two of the security guards earlier the day before. "I overheard one of Ross' guys saying something about keeping her in some kind of cage behind a sixty-inch steel perimeter. Sounds like it was made for something much bigger than her."

Natasha hadn't tapped out of her coms yet. She raised her wrist, "Steve did you copy that?" She asked, hopeful that Clint wouldn't have to repeat it.

Steve responded, "Copied! I'm on it!" And took off running to find Wanda.

"He's on it. In the meantime, let's get you guys and the STRIKE agents back to the jets." Natasha urged.

Bucky retorted, "We need to find Wanda!"

"Steve is finding Wanda!" Natasha snapped, refusing to let him argue with her when they were so close to finishing what they started. "You have _no_ gear, _no_ weapons; _no_ nothing! _I_ am taking you to safety! That was the plan, and _this_ is my job—so let's go!"

Bucky exhaled in annoyance, but complied with Natasha's demands. She lead them all back to the corner which, if turned, lead straight into the belly of the beast.

"Wait here." She ordered.

She pulled two handguns from her belt and turned the corner with confidence, aiming her weapons directly at the scene. She fired—killing two of Ross' men. Secondary STRIKE had come in clutch by then, taking out six on top of the nine that were already down.

Natasha picked up her pace, which turned into a speedy run as she approached closer to the shoot-out. When only three men remained, two turned in unison to fire at her, but she was quicker than both men combined and she smacked the rifle from one's hands. Almost identical to the way Steve fought off the men on his side hand to hand, Natasha pulled the weaponless man in front of her to block the bullets that the second man fired at her before kicking her human shield forward into him. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall.

The STRIKE agents couldn't shoot. Natasha being tangled into the fight preventing any of them from getting a clear, safe shot of the men she was fighting. But they had done enough—this they knew—and Natasha was just simply giving them a moment to breathe and speeding along the process.

To finish them off, Natasha grabbed the man who shot at her by the neck and electrocuted him with her Widows' Bites, bringing his head down hard against her kneecap before grabbing the third and finally man by his neck and bashing both their foreheads into the other. When she released her grip, they fell unconscious.

She took a short pause to catch her breath, and then she grabbed two guns from the floor that belonged to she wasn't even sure whom, and kicked them like soccer balls down the hall for Clint and Sam to take.

"Grab the guns and let's go!" She told them.

The four men waiting behind the corner came out from hiding and Clint and Sam grabbed their guns, and Natasha kicked down two more for Scott and Bucky to hold onto. She even took one for herself, figuring that if she planned to get as many agents as she had plus Clint, Sam, Bucky, and Scott all the way back up to the top, she was going to need more than her Bites and a few handguns.

She cupped her hands around her mouth to act as a bullhorn and she ordered, "All agents follow me!" She looked to the ground and was saddened to see to her surprise that two of her Delta agents had been killed during the shooting. She exhaled, squatting down next to them to check their pulses from behind their ears to be sure: nothing.

 _Almost made it,_ she thought.

She met her wrist to her mouth, speaking into her chip. "Steve, have you found Wanda?" She asked dully, somehow unable to escape the visions of the two families that would be incomplete from this point forward. She shuddered.

"Not yet!" Steve responded whilst on the run, "Get the others to safety!"

She stood up. "Way ahead of you." She said, and lowered her arm.

Steve reached the heart of the prison, hoping he would find Wanda somewhere here. Three guards stood watch by the elevator, and from what he could see from the edge of the floors (which had no railing), he only then noticed how high up from the bottom level he was.

A guard spotted him as he shifted behind the corner and aimed his gun—causing the other two to raise their guns as well. He blocked the bullets with his shield as he charged towards them, knocking the feet out from underneath one of them and striking the back of his neck with his shield. Another one, who looked too scrawny and weak to be in this line of work, launched himself at Steve—who picked him up and tossed him off of the platform with ease. The man yelled as he crashed onto the floor of the lowest level with a loud ' _THUD_ '.

He blocked the bullets being fired at him by the last man, swiping the handgun from his clutches and sending it flying off of the edge of the platform as they previous man had. This man was burly with the physique of Thor, and was clearly skilled in combat. He threw punches back and forth with Steve like they were nothing, before swinging too far to the side and allowing Steve the opportunity to wrestle him to the floor in a chokehold.

"Where is she!?" Steve demanded from him, tightening his grip around his neck, "WHERE IS MAXIMOFF!?"

The man gasped for air through the choke and he forced out the words, "Bottom floor... largest cell in the middle; you can't miss it... please don't kill me..."

Steve released him from the chokehold, and when he tried to stand up to fight back, Steve threw a right hook directly at his nose and he fell back to the floor.

He stood up stretched out his arm, looking over the side the platform and seeing two things that caught his eye: the first being the security guard he shoved off of the edge, and the largest cell in the center of the floor. The walls were steel and in a cylinder shape, with no bars, and it was built so tall that its highest point ended only a few floors below him—and he was on the third-from-top floor.

He took a few steps back, exhaled through his nose, and ran to jump off of the platform. He fell all the way to the bottom, curling into a ball and rolling to his feet as he landed—which softened the impact—before taking off running towards the cell.

He examined it, and noticed that on the side of the wall next to the door, the words "CAUTION: ELECRTIC" were plastered in black.

Steve looked through the window of the door, which was tinted so dark it had to have been bullet-proof, and saw Wanda—dangling by a three-inch thick solid chain suspended fifty feet in the air with her feet cuffed together. As usual, she wore a straitjacket and a shock collar and this time to further prevent her from talking, she had a black cloth wedged between her teeth and wrapped around her head. On the floor beneath her and the ceiling above her, there were two rings with perimeters that looked to be about five feet away from her at every point—and an electroshock field surrounded her, being sourced and stabilized by the two energy rings.

He banged on the glass. "Wanda!!" He cried.

Wanda, being hung so high up in the air, had to lower her eyes to see him through the window. Her eyes widened and, while the cell was supposedly sound-proof, he swore he _heard_ her scream.

He was horrified to the point of panic. He raised his shield and yelled as he smashed it against the tablet that would unlock the door; twice, and the apparently automatic door slid open by itself.

To keep it from closing and locking them in, he wedged his shield flat in the doorway and ran inside to aide Wanda.

He breathed heavily and shouted, "Wanda! It's okay! It's gonna be okay! I'm gonna get you out of here!" He could hear her screaming and sobbing now, and he could see the tears spewing down her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She couldn't nod her head, as he learned the last time, but he hoped she could hear and understand him.

He jogged around the electric field surrounding her, observing it and trying to figure out a way to breach it. When he made it back around to face her, he exhaled, "There's no way through or around it... I'm gonna have to turn it off manually. Do you know where the control room is!?" He asked.

Wanda raised and widened her eyes as if she were pointing upwards. Steve followed her eyes and saw bulletproof one-way glass with both of their reflections staring back at them, separating them from the control room.

He nodded, "Got it. I'll be right back!"

When he left the cell, he grabbed his shield from the doorway—causing the door to shut behind him, which he would deal with later. As he ran up the flights of stairs, he ran into two more of Ross' guards. Refusing to deal with the bastards another time, he swung his shield at them and it bounced from one chest to the other—landing them on the floor. He brushed past the two bodies, picked his shield back up and kept running for the control room.

The room connected from the platform of one of the fifth-from-top floor and extended all the way to Wanda's cell. He broke the lock with his shield and yanked the door as it slid open, ran over the controls, and tried to figure out what the hell he was doing as fast as he could.

He saw a little black microphone installed into the panel and turned it on to speak to her from the booth. "I'm in the booth and I'm looking for the switch. Stay with me, Wanda; I'm gonna get you out, alright!"

He scanned the panel, seeing a cluster of different colored buttons, switches, sliders, etc. He stopped looking when he came across a large red lever that was labeled "ON/OFF"—hoping for the best, he yanked down on it. A weird sound was made, the lights in Wanda's cell flickered, and then the force-field surrounding her disappeared into thin air.

Underneath the lever was another switch labeled "COLLAR," which he pressed the other direction and therefor turned off her shock collar as well.

Steve sighed with huge relief and he spoke back into the mic before turning it off, "I'm coming back down." And with that, he sprinted out of the room and ran all the way back to her door.

With great force, he pried open the door to her cell and re-entered, more than relieved to see anything that could electrocute her left out of the picture.

"The field's down! I just have to find a way to get _you_ down!" He explained. She screamed something at him, but he couldn't understand her through the cloth still stuck in her mouth. It sounded somewhat like she was screaming for him to _"break the chain."_

"What?" He asked for clarification.

"The chain!" She screamed; so loudly that her voice cracked, "Break it!!"

Steve looked down at his shield, and then back up at Wanda—who nodded her head and yelled as if to say _"Yes!!"_

He took a few steps back. "I'm gonna catch you, okay!?" He assured her, and threw his shield hard as he'd ever thrown it in his life at the chain. It snapped, and he ran underneath to catch her in his arms as she fell. It was so far of a drop, that the impact of her landing on him was so hard that they both fell to the ground—but neither were hurt.

She breathed so heavily, Steve was convinced she would hyperventilate in his arms. He shushed her quietly, cupping her face with his hands in reassurance as he removed the band from her mouth. She gasped as he tossed it to the side, and she continued sobbing as he did the same to her shock collar.

She leaned into him as she bawled, needing a literal shoulder to cry on, and he undid the straps and zippers to her straitjacket to help her slip out of it. He crawled over to grab his shield from where it landed after breaking the chain, and he brought it down hard through the middle of the cuffs around her feet—pulling them off of her. Once she was free from all the gadgets and gizmos they'd trapped her in, she threw her arms around Steve in tears. They both shake in the embrace, trying to find a way to deal with the intense horror of it all.

She cried, "Thank you so much... I'm sorry—I—I—"

He interrupted her, "Hey, _don't_ do that. I won't let you do that." He grabbed her face and wiped her tears with his thumbs, "This was _not_ your fault."

She nodded, blinking the tears away, and leaned in to press a kiss to Steve's cheek. He pulled her back in, delicately stroking her hair, finding comfort in someone besides Natasha or Bucky for the first time in a long time.

When her heartrate began slow down and her breathing pattern evened out, he wrapped his hand around her back and placed his other hand on her arm. "You ready to go?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Let's go." He smiled, helping her to her feet whilst keeping his hand on her lower back for stability as they speed-walked out of the room. He brought his free hand to his face and spoke into his communication chip, "Nat, I've got Wanda! We're on our—"

Out of nowhere, Steve found himself being knocked off his balance into Wanda after a heavy blow to the face by one of Ross' men. His earpiece was knocked out of his ear, and was crunched to pieces underneath the man's boot. When he and Wanda looked up, they were surrounded by men—seven in total—and they had no weapons or ammunition or anything... they would have to fight their way out hand-to-hand.

Instinctively, they both began throwing punches back and forth for self-defense with whoever came their way. Using her telekinetic powers, she generated energy rays which seemed to double as an extra pair of hands and sent a man flying off of the platform, while viciously smashing two other men into one another; rendering them unconscious. Meanwhile, Steve took out the other four men attacking them with his shield.

Natasha stood outside on the roof as the last few agents climbed up the ladders onto their assigned jets. The message Steve had sent her never came through, and she began to worry about why she hadn't heard from him in so long.

She spoke into her wrist, "Steve, all the agents are in their jets, where are you?" She heard static and muffled sounds of yelling and fighting from his end, and she felt her heart start to pound. "Steve, do you copy...? Steve...?"

The line went out, and the static was replaced with silence. Her mind raced and was flooded with ideas of everything that could have gone wrong, and stories of how he died in there. Her heart beat so rapidly as if refusing to slow down, she thought it was going to burst in her chest then and there. Steve was in trouble, and she knew it in her gut.

She looked up, "Maria!" She yelled, "Hover the jet! I'm going back in!"

"Is Steve okay?" Maria asked over her shoulder; her forehead creased with worry.

"I don't know!" Natasha shouted, and she took off running for the stairs. She trampled down them, making it only to the first hallway before she heard yelling and sounds of guns being fired from down below her.

She ran to edge of the floor and saw a whole swarm of Ross' men, and in the middle of it all was Steve and Wanda trying desperately to fight them off. Three men had Wanda pinned to the ground, while the other eight men fought to keep Steve away from her. There was no way just the two of them could take on that large a number of trained soldiers—she knew she had to help them somehow.

Natasha did the first thing she could think of, which was to pull out her guns and start shooting. Without saying anything to let the two of them know she was there, she shot down six men, including the three men who had Wanda pinned down, from her spot against the wall all the way up on the top floor. Distracted by the unknown sniper, they all looked up—which allowed Steve the opportunity to take them all out with simply the toss of his shield.

Wanda breathed heavily and sprang to her feet, and she and Steve both looked up to see Natasha.

"Natasha!" Wanda cheered, happy she'd come to the rescue.

"Stay there! I'm coming to you!" Natasha said, sprinting down the multiple flights of stairs only to meet the two of them half-way. She punched Steve hard in the shoulder. When he opened his mouth to ask what it was for, she cut him off. "Your line was dead! I thought maybe you were too; I thought something had happened to you! You scared the hell out of me!! _Damn you!_ "

She yanked him in for a tight hug. He sighed and rubbed her back. Her breath hitched and she pulled away to look at Wanda. "You know what, _damn you too!_ " She yelled, pulling her in for a hug as well.

Wanda laughed into the embrace, tears of joy clouding her vision. When she pulled away, Natasha placed both her hands onto Wanda's shoulders. She looked at her for a moment, examining her; seeing if anything had changed about her, and she shook her head. "I am so sorry this happened to you again," She said truthfully, and tears flooded her eyes.

Wanda smiled sadly and looked around at all the bodies on the floor. Teasingly changing the subject, she exclaimed with uncomfortableness, "You shot all those men!"

Natasha's brows shot so high up, Steve thought they were going to launch off of her face. "You seem uneasy about that for a woman who killed three times that many without even laying your hands on a gun—which was terrifying and freaking brilliant, just by the way."

"Did you get all our agents to the jets?" Steve asked.

Natasha sighed, "The ones that were alive, yes."

He lowered his eyes to the ground and shook his head, muttering, "Jesus..."

"Maria's hovering for us as we speak; we have to go _now_." She grabbed both of their wrists and dragged them up the stairs before they all took off running to reach the top. While climbing up the fourth flight, they were greeted with more of Ross' men on both ends—trapping them in the middle of the stairs. Steve used his shield to block the shots fired at them from the top, while Wanda used her powers to create a shield around her and Natasha against the men at the bottom. Natasha fired at them from behind the mini force-field. After a couple rounds back and forth, she didn't duck behind Wanda's generated shield in time and a bullet skinned across the side of her arm.

She yelped, dropping her gun and grasping the wound with her other hand. Wanda took the remaining men from the bottom with her energy spheres and turned to aide Natasha, while Steve threw his shield into the clump of men at the top—causing them all to tumble backwards like dominos. He jumped into the pile, and took out those weren't already unconscious with the swing of his fists.

He turned to grab hold of Natasha. "Natasha, are you okay?"

"She's bleeding! She got shot!" Wanda explained, biting the end of her long sleeved shirt with her teeth and ripping off a piece.

"I'm fine, it was a small shot!" Natasha assured them, "We have to keep going!"

Wanda fastened the piece of her sleeve around Natasha's arm above the wound and tightened it hard to stop the bleeding. Natasha grunted, biting down onto the side of her hand to keep from screaming, and then she clamped her hand around the bullet wound. When she pulled it away, it was covered in blood, which she wiped off onto the leg of her uniform.

They helped her stand up, stabilizing her as they continued to make their way up the stairs until they reached the final flight at the top of the prison.

Natasha tapped into her chip, "Maria, we're at the top of the stairs headed towards the roof! Get ready to leave!" Her hand reeked of metal from all the blood from her arm she had just touched, and it almost made her gag with it being so close to her face.

They shoved the door open, running out onto the roof where the jet was supposed to be waiting for them. Wanda ran forward to the edge to look for it while Steve and Natasha slammed the door shut and secured the metal latch on the outside to prevent—or at least, slow down—the dozens more of Ross' men that were most likely on their way to attack.

Wanda's heartrate increased and her chest tightened; she grew short of breath. She didn't turn around to face them as she spoke, "I think we have a problem with the jet."

Natasha's forehead creased. "Why, what's wrong?"

Wanda gulped...

"There isn't one."


	24. Chapter 24

     Natasha's stomach tightened. "What?"

     "There's no jet." Wanda repeated. Her face went pale. "Nobody's here! Natasha, you said Maria would be waiting for us!"

     "That was the plan! She was supposed to be!" Natasha said, shaking her head in disbelief.

     Tears weld up in Wanda's eyes as she cried out "Why isn't she!? Why is nobody here—not even Fury or the other agents? Where are we supposed to go!?—"

     "Wanda! We're going to figure it out," Natasha interrupted, struggling to disguise her sudden fear of the worst, "You have to calm down."

     It felt like every nerve in Wanda's body had been cut like a wire upon hearing those words. She felt her lips quiver, not out of sadness but out of fury and distaste. "Calm down?" She questioned. Then, she screamed. "I have been stuck here for three days! I was hanging weightless from the ceiling for _three days!_ I'm not even including the other two times I've been held prisoner here! You have _no idea_ what that feels like!"

     "Wanda—" Steve stepped closed.

     She drew back. "I just got rescued for the third time. And I am _not_ going back! I swear—"

     Boots shuffled from behind the door, and then there were sounds of pounding against it. The metal latch had slowed Ross' men down, but Steve and Natasha had relived this scene a thousand times before and knew that it wouldn't keep them on the other side of the door forever.

     Steve exhaled, "They're here."

     "Shit," Natasha mumbled and brought her wrist to her mouth so fast she almost knocked out her own teeth. "Where are you!?" She pleaded to Maria into her chip. Silence.

     "We need to find a way off of here." Steve insisted.

     "We _had_ a way. She _isn't_ here. I _don't_ see her!" Wanda snapped.

     Over the noise coming from behind the door and the arguing going back and forth between Steve and Wanda, Natasha heard Maria's voice in her earpiece saying, "We're almost to you! Hang in there!"

     "How fast can you whip up enough energy to build a protective dome around the entrance?" Steve asked Wanda, sliding out of the way so that she could examine the entrance to the stairs where the security goons would be flooding out from in a matter of moments from then.

     She tilted her head and nodded, "Fast. How big?"

     "Maria's on her way!" Natasha interrupted.

     "Good." Steve responded and continued onto Wanda, "Big enough to downsize the amount of wiggle room they'd have, and to keep them far enough away from us so we can make a run for it."

     She nodded unconfidently. The door started to slip open.

     "When they get through the door, start generating on my cue and—"

     The latch to the door snapped and the door flew open. Dozens of men poured out into the open with their weapons aimed in their direction. Wanda's eyes glowed a fiery red as she began toying with her powers.

     "Stay where you are! Nobody moves! Get your hands above your head!" The man at the front of the crowd shouted at them from a good distance away, due to the entire facility's new fear of the things Wanda Maximoff would do to you on the roof if you too close.

     Obeying their orders, Steve and Natasha slowly began to raise their hands above their heads. Wanda didn't even budge a muscle.

     "Do it!" The man yelled.

     Steve didn't turn to look at her, but he exhaled in her direction, "Do it." He knew they wouldn't get far if they didn't comply in the slightest form or fashion. Wanda's irises reverted back to their average green color and reluctantly, but at Steve's orders, she stopped generating and raised her hands high above her head.

     "Get on your knees!"

     "Don't do this." Steve pleaded.

     " _Get on your knees!_ "

     "Please. This is all a product of what I did—don't hold my team accountable."

     The man almost laughed. "This isn't just about you anymore, Cap! It was _never just_ about you! Every single one of you had the chance to diminish this whole thing from the very beginning and you passed on it! And this is what happens when your actions have _real_ consequences... now I'm not gonna ask you again—get on your knees!"

     "We're coming up on your left! You've got to be quick!" Natasha heard through her earpiece. Her stern face relaxed slightly as she looked at Steve, who sighed. Wanda closed her eyes. None of them lowered to the ground.

     The man loaded his gun and shook his head, "Suit yourself."

     "Now!" Steve signaled and jumped in front of Natasha with his shield as protection for both of them. A split second before the firing began; Wanda already had the dome halfway formed around Ross' men so that the bullets couldn't reach them. The shots bounced off of the barriers of red surrounding them, and while the dome was successful at enclosing them, Wanda struggled with the amount of energy it sucked from her body. She groaned.

     "You've got it, Wanda, keep it up!" Steve yelled.

     Tears streamed down her face. It was hurting her. "It's too hard! They're shooting too much! I can feel it against my skin!"

     Natasha looked to her left in search of the promised jet. Her eyes were in such a hurry that she almost missed it, but in the distance she saw the sky shift in one spot. _The reflection panels_ , she thought... _that's our jet!_

     She ducked down Steve's head behind the shield and ran to grab Wanda. Natasha tugged at her arm, "They're here! Let's go! Run!"

     "I'll drop the barrier!" Wanda warned. Steve handed his shield over to Natasha and he swooped Wanda up over his shoulder where she could face the back and keep the dome in check. She was caught so off guard that for a moment the dome flickered and bullets pierced through, but she quickly regained control over it as they took off in a sprint.

     As they ran, Steve found himself searching for the jet, unaware that the reflective panels were in use. "I don't see the jet!" He worried.

     Natasha shook her head, "Trust me!"

     "Natasha!?" Wanda questioned in distrust as they quickly approached the edge.

     "Jump on my cue!" Natasha ordered.

     "What!?" Steve and Wanda both said in unison.

     She didn't hesitate. She saw the glimmer of the panels only a few below them and she yanked both of them by the arms. "JUMP!"

     From then on, they experienced everything in slow motion. They leapt from the roof of the Supermax into the abyss, hopeful that there would be the inside of a jet to catch them. In distress, Wanda lost control over the dome and it exploded—shooting out rays of energy in all directions as it burst. She screamed, Steve lost his breath, and then they landed hard against the backdrop of Maria's jet.


	25. Epilogue

It happened so quickly—the out-of-body feeling as they leapt from the roof of the Supermax, the gust of wind blown by the explosion of the dome that sent them slicing faster through the air, and how it all came to an abrupt stop as they smashed down hart onto the jet's backdrop.

They clung to it like bugs on a windshield as their minds desperately tried to reconnect with the rest of their bodies, but it was a muscle memory that years in their line of work had wired into them. Steve pushed himself onto his feet and grabbed hold to the back of Natasha's cat-suit collar to bring her to her own, and he placed his hand on her back and pushed her farther inside the jet as she covered her head with her arms.

Wanda forced herself up off of her knees and reproduced a second protective barrier not around the dozens of Ross' soldiers on the roof, but around the jet they'd landed on. A cacophony of loud booms sounded as bullets were fired at the jet but failed to break contact with the cocoon of protection she had built around it. The others watched from the head, holding their breath in hope that this would be enough to allow them to slip away—to leave as if it never happened. And as they glided further and further away, and the prison and all its men grew smaller as their distance between them increased, the Avengers found the very sight of the Supermax and even the ocean beneath them disappear behind the clouds.

Maria raised the backdrop to a close, and the sheer armor of red surrounding the jet faded into the light as Wanda fell to the floor in exhaustion. Clint lunged forward to catch her head before it hit the floor and grasped her face to examine it whilst taking her into his arms. "Hey, hey, you're good. It's okay." He whispered. She was pale, as most of her energy had been drained from her body, but her cheeks were rosy from the heat and her forehead was wet with sweat. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and tilted her chin to look at him. "We're safe now."

She blinked wearily, and there was a look of relief behind her eyes. Clint nodded in reassurance and he smiled, "You did it."

A puff of breath escaped Wanda's lips, and she sat up to toss her arms around his neck in a tight hug. The others joined around them while spitting comforting phrases of reassurance as they lowered to their knees in a whole-group embrace—all of which centered around her. And while her body still shivered with alarm, for the first time in months she felt genuinely at peace.

She released the hug and everyone slowly lowered their arms and stood back while Clint helped her to her feet. She nodded in thank you, and her eyes met Steve's. Steadily, she approached him and reached down to grasp his wrists. "Thank you." She choked, holding back tears.

Steve bowed his head and looked at her, "Thank _you_ ," before pulling her into a one-on-one embrace. Natasha found her way over to Clint and lousily buried her face into his chest and felt his arms wrap around her—just like the good old days, then she tugged at Scott's sleeve and took him in in a short but long overdue hug. Sam patted Bucky hard on the shoulder, earning a smack against his back in return—but all in best interest, of course. They laughed it off, shaking their heads and mumbling in banter before joining Steve and Wanda in the center of the floor in unison with Natasha, Clint, and Scott.

Before the group knew it, they were all in a huddle with their arms locked around the other person's neck and faces almost pressed together, but yet, the circle didn't feel complete. Steve looked over his shoulder in direction of the Pilot's seat, "Maria!" He called, fanning his hand in gesture for her to join them in their circle.

Looking over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes and smirked before turning back to face her controls. She grabbed the skinny mic to her headset and spoke into it, "Activating Stealth Mode; switching to auto-pilot," before removing it, fiddling with the switches before her, and getting up from her seat to join the group between Steve and Wanda. As soon as she settled, there was a brief moment of silence and recollection of everything they'd just witnessed as a single organism. Steve looked around the group, examining the faces of those he'd grown to love so much, and he sighed.

"Thank you guys," He spoke, "For standing by me in all of this, when anyone in their right mind would've taken the easy route out and just signed the damn documents."

The team snickered and gave their share of witty remarks over one another. He pressed forward, "We fought well today... not as a team, but as a family—or certainly the closest thing I've had to one in decades."

Natasha smiled sadly, "And I think that speaks for most of us."

Bucky nodded and lowered his head, "Yeah, it does."

"Well," Steve pondered, "In the end I'm just glad this wasn't all for nothing—and that we're all together as one again."

"But we're not done yet." Sam reminded.

Steve sighed, "I know."

"We're gonna have to legally resolve this, one way or another."

"Then I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

There was silence.

Natasha's eyes met Steve's, and a half-smile crept across her lips. "So what now?"

They all shared glances amongst one another, before looking to Steve in anticipation of his response. He nodded, "We go home."

  
— SIX MONTHS LATER —

9:21am.

January fifteenth—almost six full months since the Sokovia Accords, the multi-sided battle at the Leipzig airport in Berlin, and The Avengers' final escape from the Pacific Supermax facility.

Silence.

But not complete silence. There was still the faint sound of running water from the shower in the room a few doors over from Steve's apartment, the ticking of the clock in the corner of the room on his nightstand, the sounds of early morning traffic in Washington, and the TV running in the background.

On screen, a male news anchor spoke of the long awaited trial that would take place that morning. And all would be watching—listening—waiting for the news of the to-be-determined fates of the Avengers:

_"It's been six months since we last saw Steve Rogers; Captain America, and the rest of the Avengers who brought a civil war between themselves and the United Nations when they refused to sign the Sokovia Accords in 2016. Today, we'll see them again and this time—in court where they will be addressed for their actions and will answer the question that everyone has been asking: "Why?" The US Secretary of Homeland Security answered some questions publicly yesterday morning about the subject, and he was very vocal about his perspectives in favor of the Avengers. Let's run that clip."_

The clip playing on mute in the corner of the screen enlarged to show a segment taken late the day before on the steps of the White House. He stood dressed to impress at a black podium, getting washed out by all the flash photography and spoken-over by all the journalists and paparazzi eagerly belting out muffled questions. He spoke, _"Steve Rogers is a good man. The Avengers... they're good people. I truly believe that whatever reason they possess in response to their actions is logical and will not call for intense persecution. I really do."_ The clip downsized.

 _"Yes,"_ the anchorman continued, _"That was just a small twelve-second clip of his mini-speech; the full two minute video can be found on YouTube, I believe. But just in that short clip, he made his position very clear. How many people will agree with him?—I don't know. The trial will begin today at 10:00am at Capitol Hill, which is in less than an hour—and Steve Rogers will answer to his actions alongside Russian spy and co-Avenger, Natasha Romanoff, as well as former US Air Force Paratrooper, Sam Wilson. The ex-assassin, formerly known as The Winter Soldier, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, is also rumored to make an appearance."_

Natasha lowered the volume to faint, but still audible, decibel. She sat on the arm of the couch, clothed in a nicely fitted black dress and blazer almost identical to the attire she wore at Peggy Carter's funeral the year before. Her hair was draped loosely over her shoulders in a collection of light curls, and her lips were painted a delicate berry color. In the corner of the room by the bed stood Steve, grounded in front of the mirror while his hands worked his tie.

Natasha looked back at him, laughing to herself at the sight of him struggling to perfect the knot. She brushed her hands down the back of the skirt of her dress as she stood up and tip-toed over to his aide. Lightly, she tapped his shoulder to spin him around to face her.

"You know if you need help, don't be shy to ask." She teased as she wrapped her fingers around the hem of his tie.

Tittering, he admitted, "I've never been an expert at making them look right."

"Well, that's what I'm here for." She smiled; perfectly finishing the knot and spinning him back around to face the mirror. " _Voilà_."

Steve brushed himself off and adjusted it around his neck. He joked, "So that's your new job? Making sure my ties look right?"

She shook her head, "Making sure _you_ look right."

"Ha. I know you try." He said pitifully.

"Although, I do think the other black tie would've suited better..." she cocked her brow and tugged at the tail—tightening it around his neck, "Quite literally."

He rolled his eyes, "Black is black, Natasha."

"Clearly you've never worn black over black and realized they weren't both the same shade of black."

"Clearly not." He confessed, "Must be a lady thing."

Natasha pursed her lips, "Must be... while we're at it, can I fix your hair? You look like you just woke up."

"I _did_ just wake up," he reminded her, "And no—but if it'll make up for the loss, you can pick out a blazer."

Flirtatiously, she crossed her arms and slipped past him. "Screw Avenging, I like this new job."

"Uh-huh," he laughed, making his way over to his nightstand for his phone while Natasha did her thing. In his closet, she bypassed the nice coats hanging on the rod and went to dig through his drawers where she'd known he kept his nicest attire. The blazers were neatly folded one on top of the other in the second drawer from the top, and to spare time she grabbed the first black one on the top of the stack. As she reached for it, she felt something hard inside the lower pocket. Curious, she stuck her hand in and dug it out to remove the extra weight more so than to see what it was.

It was an old, rusty compass. She held it in her palm, examining it before opening it—and she saw on the inside a small photograph of none other than Peggy Carter folded within the lid. Her heart sank; suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that it was none of her business, and she threw the blazer over her forearm and left the closest with the compass still in her hand.

"You know," Steve started from across the room, not yet looking at her to see that she had found his compass. "If you're actually planning on pursuing this, I know some guys on the tenth floor who are in desperate need of your expertise—"

He stopped mid-pitch as he turned around—and his eyes automatically were drawn to the sight of his cherished compass. He met Natasha's eyes, saddened by how guilty they appeared, and he sighed. She approached him.

"I'm sorry." She pleaded, "It was in your pocket and I didn't know—"

He reached out, gently scooping it from her palm, "No, it's okay."

Natasha folded her arms. She'd upset him. And now she felt guilty. But rather than ignoring it and moving on like one normally would, she sparked conversation regarding it. "That's Peggy, isn't it?" She asked dumbly.

"Yeah," Steve opened the compass and caressed the picture sadly, "This was my old compass from the army... haven't built up the courage to trash it yet."

Natasha shook her head, "No one's saying you have to."

Silence.

"Was it your good luck charm?" She asked.

He tilted his head, "Sort of. It's been a little over half a year since she passed... kind of feels like the only thing I have left of her."

Natasha sighed, wishing she didn't empathize with him as much as she did. Sometimes it scared her how different they were, yet so similar at the same time. Steve cleared his throat, "Anyways. We're already behind schedule and you probably don't want to hear about that stuff."

"I _do_." She corrected.

"Really?" His questioned with his brows raised.

She exhaled, grabbing his hand in her own and stroking his knuckles. "I'm willing to listen for as long as you're willing to talk," she said truthfully, meeting his eyes. She guided him over to the edge of the bed and sat him down next to her, and they turned to face each other.

He nodded sadly, and looked up at her. "Thanks Nat."

They were quiet for a moment—unsure of where to take the conversation. "So, um..." Natasha curled her lips, "I don't know. How did you and Peggy meet?"

It was a basic, silly question, but it had so much to answer for. Steve almost laughed, "We were both in the army. She worked for the Strategic Scientific Reserve—which later became SHIELD—and she got assigned to our training base for research. It was her job to oversee potential candidates for Project Rebirth—which was the whole super-soldier serum thing—and I was the lucky fella that got chosen for the experiment."

"So what I'm hearing is that, really, you wouldn't have been Captain America if it weren't for Peggy Carter."

"You know, I wouldn't have been a lot of things if it weren't for Peggy Carter." He admitted. It was deep. But it was the truth. "I've got to hand it to her. Up until then, she was like an assistant to the Colonel. She helped train us; keep us in line. You know how I'm always barking orders at you?"

"Fairly well."

"Okay that's the way it was between her and I, only vise-versa. She was the one giving me the orders."

"That sounds nice."

"Sure," Steve granted, but there was a sorrowful shake of his head that followed as he pressed on, "God, we were a cliché: two people with completely different backgrounds falling in love when they weren't supposed to—only to be tragically separated in the end... like some... I don't know, _Shakespeare_ or whatever."

Natasha raised her brows, "Oh, so now you know _Shakespeare_?"

"Shakespeare's work was around _way_ before I went under the ice." He countered defensively before sharing a smile.

"Then I guess that would be a first." She jabbed, drawing out a big eye roll from Steve. "Now back to your story, basically you got heart-eyes for her exactly when you shouldn't have, is what I'm getting at."

"In summary."

"So what then? What made you stop?"

"That's kind of a tough question, actually." He chuckled, pursing his lips and scratching his cupid's bow. "We were at war. It was the Nazis... you know? I was going at it with the Red Skull over the tesseract while she was back at the base. The Valkyrie was going to crash on US land, in a spot where the impact would have been far too fatal on its civilians—things went critical, and I torpedoed the jet into the ice."

Natasha sighed. That was something she thought about constantly: just how different Steve's life could have—would have—been if he hadn't crashed that day; better yet, how different her _own_ life would have been. Would he have settled down like Bucky told her he would have, and with Peggy? Had children of his own with her and lived to see his grandchildren? She knew he must have wanted it desperately—she knew even nowadays that was probably a wish of his. But she also knew that was a wish she could never grant—a life she could never live with him. That was something that broke her heart more than she was willing to admit.

"Time went by," He delved, "She got married to some other guy she met in the army—whom I had saved—just for the record... she started a family of her own, had two kids with him... you get the picture. All while I was stuck in the ice, to be later found by Fury and his recruits. So I guess to answer your question, I never really _stopped_ —"

"You still love her." Natasha said, more for herself to hear rather than him, "I get that."

" _So-so_." Steve corrected. "Part of me has long since let her go, but... I guess the other part is still trying to grasp hold of what might have been—even if it's an opportunity long gone."

She didn't know how to respond to that. These were conversations she never had. Of course, talking about emotions always came easy when it was between her and Steve; and she was always a good listener, but he was opening up to her in a way she'd never seen before—and it killed her to hear how sad this man truly was beneath his rock-solid exterior. She'd broken down walls of his that most had barely scratched the surface of and likewise. No matter the topic, she knew she'd always lend an ear for him to speak into, but only now was she beginning to see the positives _and_ the negatives that came with that.

She settled for the generic response, "Steve, I'm so sorry." But she wished she could put into words how much deeper she felt for him than that.

Then, like after every pour-your-heart-out moment they had, there was silence. This particular silence didn't last too long, as Natasha spit out the words, "Well, you have it worse than I do—that's for sure."

Steve shook his head, "That's such a lie." And it was. She knew it was. But what she wasn't sure of was whether or not she was ready to open up about it. "Natasha, we've both felt the same things at one point or another, whether it be pain, loss, or regret... But at some point we have to face the music and come to terms with fact that there's really nothing we can do to stop it. Nothing will change it. And that all we can do is try to forget."

"Forget..." Natasha mocked with the shake of her head and the lowering of her eyes. That word hurt her every time she heard it. It wasn't like she had never tried to forget—and it wasn't like she was still hung up on the horrors of her past, but what most people seemed to forget themselves is that those horrors constantly came back and nipped her on the butt. And she knew that if Steve knew her full story, he'd understand that.

It was time to tell him, despite her doubts and hesitations. She felt it in her heart and soul. "So long as we're sharing tragic stories of our pasts, have I ever told you about The Red Room?"

Steve paused, searching for a mention of it in his memories. "I think you mentioned it at the funeral last year."

"Yeah, um... how much did I tell you?" She asked.

"The Tundra, I think."

"But that was it?"

"That was it."

Natasha exhaled and felt her heart begin to race. "Great. Then we have something to talk about."

"Natasha," he argued. Despite how little he knew of her past, though it was more than most, he was well aware that this was a sensitive subject for her which is why she rarely talked about it. "If you don't want to, you don't—"

"No, you need to know, if..." She stopped herself before she went too fast or said the wrong thing. "You need to know."

Steve sensed her hesitation and felt a little himself, but she seemed determined to get the words out and knew she desperately needed him to listen. "Okay." He agreed. "Whenever you're ready."

She exhaled.

"I was recruited by the KGB at a really young age—that's how I ended up in The Red Room. It was a Soviet brainwashing and training program in Russia. They took young girls and trained and raised them to become the world's most lethal assassins."

Right off the top of the bat, it was intense.

"We were taught in hand to hand combat and acrobatics," She continued, "They taught us how to kill with practically every kind of weapon—sometimes they handpicked two girls to spar with each other, stuff like that."

"I take it not like when you and I do?" Steve guessed.

"No, _not_ like you and I do." She said coldly, "Failure wasn't tolerated in The Red Room and the loser was killed by her opponent."

Silence. Steve's stomach churned.

"When we would sleep, they would handcuff both of our hands to our bedframes just in case anybody had any thoughts about escaping in the middle of the night."

"Did anybody ever try?"

"Once..." Natasha answered, "She was used as a live target for firearm practice the next morning. I would know, because I was the first to shoot her."

"They had live targets?" Steve asked, choosing to ignore the second half of her sentence for the sake of both of them.

She nodded, "All the time. And if the girls refused to shoot, they would be forced to spar on the spot with the highest ranking student. If they won, they'd get one more chance to shoot. If they didn't... well like I said—the loser gets killed."

"Did you ever have to spar for that reason?"

"Once."

Silence. Steve connected the dots from there.

Natasha pressed on, committed to sharing the full story with him. "They would make us watch old projections of movies like _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ or _Pinocchio_ , but they were full of subliminal messages like "pain" and "fear" and that's how they would brainwash us—it's part of how they succeeded with so many girls. It was sick and twisted and..." She hesitated, "Genius. And every day it was the same routine: wake up, train, fight to kill, and then go back to sleep. Only I never slept."

"If you don't mind me asking..." He'd always wondered about this, and now he saw his opportunity to ask. "If they were so strict about their students escaping, how did you make it out?"

Silence.

Natasha swallowed. This was the part of her story that destroyed her the most—and with Steve's hidden crave to start a family, she knew this would destroy him as well and probably a good chunk of her chances of ever having a life with him. "Um..." She started, choking on the words. "When the students have successfully passed a series of tests over a period of time, they do let you leave... They have this procedure; the 'Graduation Ceremony'..."

She paused, struggling to go on. Steve sensed this from her and reached out for her hand. She met his eyes, and they screamed a thousand things at her that told her she had to keep going. She'd told him everything except for the ending, which had always been the most important part and the part that was hardest to tell.

"And at the ceremony..." She forced out, "They sterilize you. And then you're free to go."

Silence.

Steve exhaled with jagged breaths, and he squeezed her hand harder. "Oh, Nat..."

She found herself tearing up—which wasn't unusual when telling this story, especially at this part, but she knew her tears meant more this time around because of the person listening.

"They said it would make us better at what we do." She wept, "And they were right. They were always right. None of their girls had to worry about emotional attachment, or taking care of their sick child rather than completing a mission. It was easier that way."

Easier for them, but it was the hardest thing she had to live with. It was the first thing on her mind when she woke up alone in her apartment, and the last thing on her mind when she fell asleep at night— _if_ she fell asleep. She couldn't count the times she felt her stomach twist when she'd be out about and catch sight of a pregnant woman walking down the street, or a man and a woman having a nice dinner with their children. Her parents were dead and so were all her siblings—any other family she had she wasn't aware of, and given her inability to have children, as far as she was concerned, the Romanov name would die with her.

Across from her, Steve's eyes were watering. It wasn't like her to open up to anybody like this. She'd told Bruce the worst part of the story, which later turned out to be a mistake—but the only people who knew everything in full detail was Clint, Nick Fury and Maria Hill, and now Steve—which was more people than she would've liked to know. Fury and Maria had always respected her as an agent and stood by her, but there was still a sense of distrust that they all felt between one another given the situation of how they met and such. And deep down, she knows there's still parts of them that merely see her as nothing more than the Soviet-raised assassin. Clint was Clint. He saw the best in everybody, even if there was none. He'd never judged her based off of her past doings and she knew he never would—but he was the first so far. At this point she'd said too much to Steve to take it back, and she could only hope that he would continue to see her as Natasha Romanoff: his partner in crime and his shoulder to cry on, rather that Natasha Romanoff: the cold-hearted killer.

"So riddle me this, Cap," she continued. Tears were streaming down her face. "How do I forget that? How do all the memories of the sick and damn unforgivable things I did and went through just slip my mind? Because I'll tell you, even now I sleep with my arms above my head just because it's muscle memory."

Steve brushed the tears away from his eyes with his thumb and pinched the bridge of his nose. He exhaled. And Natasha found herself shaking from fear of his reaction.

"I know that the things you've done; the things done to you are hard to live with." He started, "But I also know that who you were then—it's not who you are now. I've never met her."

She met his eyes.

"What you did all those years ago doesn't define you, maybe it did then—but it's the things you do know that does." Steve explained, still holding on tight to her hand. "We can't re-write the past... but if we can find a way to live with it, if we can let go... then maybe it's a close second."

"I've tried," she shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes, "It's easier said than done."

"I know that. And it's a lot to ask of you; of me, to let go. But we're so much better than how we see ourselves; than how the world sees us. I think that after everything... it's time we both come to know that."

She was at a loss of words. Nobody's ever been so accepting so quickly after hearing about where she came from and what she's done. "Wow." She stuttered, "That's, um... that's very unlike every other response I've received after sharing that story."

"Well who else have you told?" He asked, suddenly worried. They knew all the same people. With the exception of Clint, nobody deserved to know her like that—Steve himself barely did.

Natasha shook her head, "It's not important. Not very many, I'll say. The feedback has always just been so negative, which is totally understandable, I guess. It's also why I put off telling _you_ for so long."

"You could've come to me sooner, you know. It wouldn't have scared me off."

"But I was the one who was scared," she admitted, "I wasn't sure you'd even want to hear it. I mean I don't even like telling it. I'm disgusted by it—I'm humiliated by it... And most of the time, whenever people get the full spiel, they leave one way or another."

Steve looked taken aback, "You thought I would just go away?"

"I had no way of knowing that you wouldn't." She sobbed, "And I didn't want you to look at me differently. We've spent too long building this bond between us. I wasn't ready to risk it."

Silence.

He exhaled and stroked her hand, "Well. For what it's worth? No amount of stories about the Natasha before can change the way I see the Natasha now. I'm glad you told me."

She met his eyes with a sniffle, and they both exchanged sad smiles. "I'm glad you're still here," she said.

His eyes drifted from hers to the compass lying inches away from them on the bed. There was something different about the way he felt. It was fairly obvious to the both of them now that the only reason he'd held on to the compass was because of Peggy, and if you asked him the day before or even a few moments earlier, he would've told you he wasn't ready to get rid of it. He didn't feel that attachment to it anymore.

He wasn't sure why. Or perhaps he didn't want to admit to himself why. Perhaps it was his way of telling himself that he could let go of Peggy—that he could move on. But there was something in his heart that was telling him he wasn't ready to yet—that there was something extra he needed to do before he could let go.

And he knew exactly what it was.

Natasha pulled her hand away gently as she stood up, brushing her hands down the back of her dress. "Well," she started, trying to regather herself back together, "We should get going if we want to make it to Capitol Hill on time—"

Steve sprung up. "Wait," He begged, grabbing hold of her elbow.

"What?" She asked with concern.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he found himself unable to get the words out. His eyes wandered around the room and landed back on the compass, and he exhaled. _You have to do this,_ he thought.

"Before we go..." He started, looking her in the eyes. "Would you do something for me?"

She nodded, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Would you dance with me?"

Silence.

Natasha scratched the back of her neck and stepped back, "What?"

"I want to dance with you." He said nervously. "I'm not very good, fair warning, but—"

"I don't—"

"Please."

She shook her head gently, squinting her eyes, "What kind of game are you playing, Steve?"

He sighed, and a soft laugh escaped his lips. "I guess you'll have to find out."

Natasha tried not to, but she couldn't help but grin to herself as she turned on her heel and walked over to the table to grab her phone. It had been so long since she danced, she wasn't sure if she'd even still be good at it. Steve watched as she scrolled through the music on her phone. _I'll take it as a yes,_ he thought with a smile.

"Any requests?" Natasha asked over her shoulder.

He laughed, "I'll settle for anything before this century."

"Well unfortunately, this is the century we live in—so be patient. I have to actually do some searching now."

That was a lie. She hated the music nowadays as much as he did. She had plenty of old songs on her playlists, and she knew just the song to play. While she looked for it, Steve moved the ottoman in the living room to add to the amount of wiggle room they had. He was nervous. He'd never danced before. He'd always planned that his first dance would be with Peggy. But Peggy was dead, and he often found himself thinking more often that even now she wouldn't have compared to Natasha.

Softly in the background, Natasha began playing " _You Made Me Love You_ " by Harry James.

"Please tell me this sounds familiar," she warned Steve as she approached.

He smirked, "I may have heard it once or twice." She rolled her eyes with a smile and stepped closer. Steve's breath hitched.

"Alright," she said, "Let's get this over with."

"Confession—I actually don't really know how to slow dance."

"Aw," she said cutely. He blushed. "Left hand on my waste, right hand in mine." He adjusted his hands to where she told him to, and looked to her eyes for approval. She nodded, pleasantly satisfied.

"Good. As for the footwork, don't step on my toes and you'll be fine."

Steve tensed. It was almost too ironic. Of course Peggy's last words to him would be Natasha's last piece of advice before sharing a dance with him— _Peggy's_ would-have-been dance.

"What?" She asked, confused as to what she could've possibly done wrong to set him off.

He shook his head and tightened his grip on her. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Okay..." Natasha went along, moving on with it even though she knew something was bothering him now. "I'd teach you the Waltz, but you don't see it much nowadays. It's a shame."

"Yeah, it is."

Slowly, they started swaying along to the music and at Natasha's lead, as he was still adjusting to the setting and the style. It was slow and awkward at first, but as the music played on and they grew more comfortable this close together, their movements flowed naturally as they danced around his apartment. After a few minutes, it almost became like a joke. They talked and laughed and danced into and throughout his kitchen, and he twirled her around the island counter where she bumped into the corner of the marble.

As the song ended and started over on repeat, they made their way back into the living room—swaying barefoot on the soft carpet. "You know," she said, "Despite being a ninety-seven-year-old war veteran who's never danced before in his life—you're not half bad at this."

He laughed, "Somewhere in there I heard a compliment, so, thank you."

" _First dance,_ huh?" She mentioned again, somehow hung up on it, "Never got around to it back in the day?"

Steve paused. "No."

Silence.

"I've got to know, though," Natasha said, "What brought this on?"

He lowered his eyes and sighed, twirling her around in a circle for the third time that night to distract from the question, only instead of smiling she gave him a look that urged him to tell her the truth of the matter. "It's just not fair of me to ask you to let go of your past when I haven't let go of mine."

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah," she agreed softly.

Then, after building up a load of confidence, Natasha leaned her head against his chest—and fought to keep from blushing as she felt his heart beat faster. Steve moved his left hand from her waist further up her back just below her neck. It almost felt more like a hug than it did a slow dance position, which was intentional on his part, and the world seemed to disappear around them. They had drowned out the noise from the city streets and the clock seemed to stop ticking, and they felt nothing about the trial that would take place in a matter of minutes or about what the future held for them afterwards. They simply felt good... _happy_ , even. And their world was calmer than it had ever been before.

"Tell me more about Peggy," Natasha pleaded. Though they reminded her of everything she could never give him, she liked listening to his stories about her. More accurately, she just liked listening to him talk about the things that made him happy at one point or another. She wondered if he'd ever talked about _her_ like that before.

Steve laughed, "I don't think there's much more to say."

"Sure there is," she argued, "What did she like? What was she like?"

"She was a lot of things. She was brave—strong... she was independent, clever... stubborn, but generous... _beautiful_..." He stopped, "In a way she was a lot like you, come to think of it."

Natasha smirked childishly to herself and lifted her head off of his chest, "You think I'm beautiful?"

He tilted his head and sighed. "Well, I said "in a way,"—meaning you two weren't _completely_ the same..." His voice trailed in a tease.

She rolled her eyes. "Ha." That was something she never got tired of and figured would never grow old. You can take away his uniform and his super soldier physic physique, and you'd still be left with his sarcastic humor. And likewise, with herself.

She leaned her head back against his chest, closed her eyes, and exhaled. He looked down at the top of her head, and found himself changing his answer to something more genuine. "Absolutely," he told her.

Natasha opened her eyes, but she didn't move. Then she realized that neither of them were moving. The music was still playing, but they'd stopped dancing—now, they were just standing in the middle of the apartment in one another's embrace. But she didn't mind that at all, and neither did he.

"You and I..." she said into his shirt, "We think too much."

"Ha. A few years as an Avenger will do that to you." He said, which was the truth of the matter. Being an Avenger took a toll on everything they did or wanted to do. Everybody they came across either wanted to kill them, take a picture with them, or stalk them—which lead to a lot of paranoia and a life lived with one eye open at all times. It was the only way they knew how to live. And aside from Clint, who was now fully retired, there was little to no chance of having a life of their own with someone else. None of them could imagine dying in war and leaving their families to care for themselves without a father or a mother, or a wife or a husband. There were too many worst case scenarios, and too many instances where they could all come true. So an Avenger always isolated his or herself away from the rest of the world because that was what was best for themselves and the outside world.

But for Steve and Natasha, their days of being Avengers were about to be diminished one way or another. And they wouldn't have to worry about dying and leaving their partner to live a life without the other. And how much easier would it be if their partners were each other? How much _better_?

Natasha's heart raced, "Well I'm gonna need you to not think for a second."

"Yeah?" He asked, looking down at the top of her head again as he waited for _her_ to look at _him_.

She closed her eyes, whilst biting down hard on her lower lip. "I'm gonna ask you a question... and I need you to just respond with the first thing that comes to mind, is that okay?"

"Okay." He promised in uncertainty, "What is it?"

The song ended. She pulled away, and looked him dead in the eyes. She knew what she wanted and where she wanted to go with him, and she had for a while, but she had to know what he wanted too. And now, she wasn't just going to ask him how he felt, she was going to put the entire future of their relationship in their hands and give him complete control over what happened next. _But no pressure_.

"Who do you want me to be?" She asked.

It was a simple question, which was how she intended it to be. He looked at her, and in that moment there was a million things he wanted to say—and a million things he could say all wrong. A floodgate of memories came with it. Natasha had asked him the same question two or three years earlier in the car ride to New Jersey, a few hours after they'd shared their first and only kiss undercover on the escalators. He remembered their conversation word for word:

_"Nobody special?" She asked._

_He laughed. "Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience."_

_"That's alright—you just make something up."_

_"What, like you?"_

_"The truth is a matter of circumstances. It's not all things to all people all the time. Neither am I."_

_"That's a tough way to live."_

_She shrugged. "It's a good way not to die though."_

_"You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."_

_"Yeah..." she agreed. "Who do you want me to be?"_

_He thought up a_ _simple_ _answer_ _, "_ _How 'bout a friend?"_

_She laughed, and shook her head... "Well there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers."_

His mind screamed at him to answer as he thought about their conversation. He had asked her to be a friend, and nothing more, and years later she turned out to be the best one he had in present day. _"How 'bout a friend?"_ He had told her then.

He didn't want her that way anymore.

 _"Answer with the first thing that comes to mind,"_ she had said. He sighed. Then he grabbed her at waist and kissed her.

It took her by surprise, as she had been expecting a simple verbal answer, but it was passionate and genuine and better than any other response she could've received. She reached up, tenderly stroking one side of his face as they melted into this kiss, with their free hands still intertwined and extended out in a slow dance position. His lips felt different than any man's she'd felt before; there were a thousand different words she could use to describe him in that moment but none would do him justice as he pulled her in closer to his chest.

He was overcome with emotion and sensory detail at her touch. He never remembered it feeling this way; her lips against his own, then again the last time they'd kissed he had barely comprehended what was happening before it ended—and it didn't hold a candle to this. Nothing did. _Nobody_ held a candle to Natasha. The way she felt; the way she moved and acted—everything she did was in a way all her own. He'd always given her credit for that, but he was now coming to realize he'd only scratched the surface of the things she could do and just how far extended her realm of capability went. And if he had to stay frozen in that moment for the rest of his life, never moving forwards or backwards ever again, he would not have minded.

It was at that point that they both heard knocking on the door, and both chose to ignore it—not caring one bit for who it could be, or the fact that he had a spare key in hand to Steve's apartment. After neither of them went to answer the door, Bucky decided to let himself in and found himself walking in on them, mid scene.

"Damn," Bucky exclaimed, backing out of the doorway in embarrassment. He wore a grey suit and tie with nice black dress shoes—which Steve had lent him—and his hair was gelled back into a low man-bun with his face freshly shaved. Though his neighbors in the apartment building assured him he looked very nice, he felt silly. And dressing formally took much more time and effort than he remembered.

Startled, Steve and Natasha awkwardly pulled away from each other. He was relieved that it was only Bucky who walked in; however, _she_ wasn't sure that she shared the feeling.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor, "My bad guys. Should I come back, or?—"

"No, no. You're fine." Steve promised with a small laugh, "Is it time?"

"Yeah, it's time."

They all exhaled at their own pace, sharing hesitant looks amongst one another. Natasha looked at Steve, who nodded submissively. "Alright," she said, rolling down the sleeves of her blazer, "Let's go."

Bucky stood awkwardly to the side, holding the door open for her, "Yep."

Steve moved to follow her out, but stopped in his tracks halfway to the door. "Oh, hang on. Let me grab my blazer—I'll meet you guys downstairs."

"I'll help you look for it." Bucky offered.

"Buck, I know where it is—"

" _I'll help you_ look for it."

Steve raised his arms in surrender and walked a circle around the room to the bed where his black blazer was laying. Natasha pursed her lips, "Alright. I'll be waiting in the car."

"K." They both said in unison. She rolled her eyes and disappeared around the corner, closing the door behind her.

Steve grabbed the jacket from his mattress and felt a breeze from the outside touch his face—as he had opened the glass doors that morning. Slowly, he set the blazer back down on his bed, placed his hands in his pockets, and strolled out onto the balcony. Bucky followed him, and they both stood at the edge—watching the city come to life as men and women on the streets set out for work or for breakfast.

"So..." Bucky started, "You and Natasha?"

Steve laughed and looked down at the sidewalk many floors below him. "It's not like that."

"It sure as hell looked like it."

"Looks can be deceiving. You know that."

Bucky exhaled and removed his hands from his pockets to wipe his nose, and he leaned his back against the railing. "Look, man," he said, "I know things have been rough for you since Peggy died. But this isn't 1945 anymore. And personally, I think that if she found the courage to move on and find happiness in someone else, she would want that for you too."

Steve sighed and leaned over the railing. He didn't make eye contact.

"You know you're allowed to be happy, right?"

"I know that, Buck."

"I don't think you do." He said, shaking his head and turning to face Steve. "I saw the exchange between you and her in Berlin. I was right there. You know as well as I do that even if she hadn't been aiming for T'Challa, you would've let her shoot you—but you _knew_ she wasn't going to. The two of you were supposed to be on opposite sides, but you never even touched her; never threw your shield at her... You're the best soldier I know, but Natasha is the only woman I've seen you willing to give up everything for since Peggy. And you can't tell me that feeling doesn't go both ways, because I know it does. I talked with her while you were in the emergency room. Did you know she was kicking herself because she knew there was nothing _she_ could do to save you?"

"Alright, Bucky, I get it."

"I'm not gonna keep you out here all morning as an attempt to get you to admit it, but whether or not you think you do or chose to admit it—you love her. And she loves you, _I know_ she does. So do with that what you will."

Steve looked over the balcony and saw her with the car, arms crossed and all. She was leaned against the side of it when an old man with a cane walked by her. Steve watched as Natasha smiled at the old man, who smiled back politely, and then she sprang forward to grab the side door for him. He felt his heart flutter, recognizing further more just how endearing the little things she did made him fall in love with her more and more every day.

He sighed and shook his head with a half-smile, "I do love her."

Bucky smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "Then go to her," he said.

"I'm going," Steve agreed lousily, but with a childish smile, and the both of them exited his apartment to meet Natasha with the car outside. As they made their way outside, and he and Natasha met eyes, she walked towards them with a grin.

"You ready to go?" She asked, tossing him the keys.

"Ready as I'll ever be." He said with his brows raised.

Bucky smirked, and climbed into the back of the car where Sam was sitting. "Aw great," he said bitterly, " _You_."

" _You_." Sam mimicked with his eyes squinted in annoyance. "What took so long? I've been waiting in the backseat for longer than 10 minutes."

"Poor you," Bucky said sarcastically, "Steve kissed Natasha and confessed his undying love for her. But pardon me for letting them reflect on the moment."

"Whoa, back up. Steve, like, _love-loves_ Natasha?"

Bucky nodded.

"Ah nice!" Sam exclaimed. "Now Barton _and_ Tic-Tac owe me half a Franklin!"

"You guys put money on this?"

"Hell yeah."

"Without me?"

"Hell yeah." Sam said, leaning forward into the front to talk to Steve and Natasha. "Hey, can we please go so we can get this trial over with?"

Steve cocked his brow, "Only if you promise not to freak out on me up there in front of jury."

"Well _why don't_ you get your old 40's ass in the car and make sure I don't?" He said. Bucky snickered, and Steve rolled his eyes before focusing them back on Natasha—who'd gotten closer to him.

"Yeah, Rogers," She said seductively, sliding her hands up his shoulders and giving the impression that she was leaning in for a quick kiss. Instead, she shoved him down hard into the front seat, which drew an annoyed laugh out of him. She smirked, "Get your ass in the car."


End file.
